The Death Eater's Revenge
by Marth36
Summary: Voldemort is gone, but his legacy lives on in his followers...Harry & friends find this fact out much too late. This story is now finished. Please read and review! I need to feel better about myself!
1. The Fugitive

Harry Potter And The Death Eater's Revenge  
  
Disclaimer: I in no way own any of the characters mentioned in this story. All of them (and related indicia) belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and/or Warner Brothers.  
  
*Author's note: This story was written before the fifth book in the Harry Potter series was released. I wrote this story in accordance with several rumors/facts about the book that I have read and believed so far. Note that this is a fan fiction-key word, fiction! :)  
  
Although I am not British like the characters in J.K Rowling's books (and J.K Rowling herself), I know a lot about the British way of speaking and I have tried to write this story in that way--not in an Americanized way, but in the way the real Harry Potter books were written. Doing that made writing this fan fiction piece a whole lot more challenging and fun (you wouldn't believe how much I watched BBC America to write this). This is the longest work of fan fiction I have ever written--it is also the first one I have worked on for more than two weeks. :) Enjoy!  
  
Prologue  
  
The peace that now overtook the wizarding world had only been there for a few months. Thanks to Albus Dumbledore and his wizarding allies, Voldemort was no more. After Voldemort had been reborn in Harry Potter's fourth year, Albus Dumbledore had been working tirelessly to ensure that Voldemort would never gain back his power again. He enlisted the help of creatures that the rest of the wizarding world thought was terrifying. They called Dumbledore a lunatic because of his actions. However, because of the special actions and precautions he had taken, they had finally cornered Voldemort and destroyed him. "You-Know-Who" would never rise again.  
  
Wizards everywhere believed that his followers too had disbanded, or had been killed. Now all that was left were the "good" wizards-the wizards who believed in truth, and love, and the triumph of goodness over evil.  
  
Or so people thought.  
  
Some of Voldemort's most dangerous and clever follwers-his Death Eaters-were still out there somewhere. Yes, they knew now that it was hopeless-Voldemort had been utterly destroyed by Dumbledore, and could never return to terrorize the wizard world again. However, these few but extremely vengeful and loyal Death Eaters of his wanted nothing more than to seek out that "Muggle-loving fool" and exact their revenge on him for taking their master.  
  
They also wanted that wretched boy-Harry Potter. Because of him, Voldemort had been reborn. Because of him and Dumbledore, Voldemort had met his end-twice-through Harry Potter. Harry Potter: that foolish, unworthy boy, the boy who had made their entire world crumble.  
  
It is here that our story begins.  
  
Chapter One  
  
The Fugitive  
  
He had been walking for many, many days now. Where he was going, even he didn't remember anymore.  
  
A strong gust of icy night air swirled around him, and he sucked in his breath with the shock. Shivering violently, he yanked his hood up and pulled his cloak tighter around him.  
  
Why was he here, in the dead of night? Why was he forced to run like a hunted animal?  
  
It was all because of Harry Potter. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists at the mere mention of Harry's name. Because of Harry Potter, he had lost everything-his friends, his freedom, his family…  
  
Of course…of course, he knew it had to happen sometime. But why now?  
  
"It is nothing," he muttered to himself, as though trying to console himself. "That foolish boy won't be around any longer…I will prove myself…I have become a force to be reckoned with…"  
  
For you see, ever since he had been forced to leave everything behind he had come up with a plan to seek out his final revenge on Harry Potter. He was blinded with dreams of inflicting as much pain as possible on Potter. He didn't care if he died while carrying out his plan against Harry Potter…all he wanted was for Harry Potter to feel the pain and misery that he had felt that night that Voldemort had met his end at last…  
  
And, if all went to plan, he might even be able to get a few of those stupid, Muggle-loving fools to go down with him…for he knew that Harry Potter had been friends or had been in the good company of mainly Muggle- loving people. The man's hands clenched, though this time an insane grin twisted his pale features.  
  
He stopped suddenly. Now was the time to strike, if he hoped to get at Harry Potter before it was too late. He needed to find where Potter was staying, keep an eye on him, then begin his plan.  
  
Swiftly, he continued walking, his shoulders shaking with maniacal laughter, wild dreams of glory racing through his mind. He could picture Potter writhing in pain in front of him, screaming, pleading for mercy…but he would not give it to the boy…he would not spare him pain…he would torture him, leaving Potter's body broken, his mind, his spirit damaged beyond repair, beyond belief...then, dispose of him quietly, leaving the wizarding world in turmoil...the same despair that had enveloped them in the glory days of Voldemort...  
  
It would be a pleasure. 


	2. Harry's Doubts

Chapter Two  
  
Harry's Doubts  
  
It had only been one or two months since Harry Potter had left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He didn't think of himself as unusual any more, nor did he hate the summer holidays any more either. No, now he looked forward to them as much as other people his age did. The summer now seemed even more bright and carefree, what with You-Know Who gone…  
  
Harry shook his head. It had taken him so much to defeat Voldemort. He could still hardly believe that Dumbledore had done it. But he had.  
  
Harry was staying now at the Leaky Cauldron, having no other place to stay. Tom, the aging, toothless innkeeper, was still just as glad to take him in as he had been before. He was very generous, and allowed Harry to stay as long as he wanted, free of charge. Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Tom as a strong, blustery wind rattled the windowpanes. He wouldn't fancy being outside in this weather, especially at night…  
  
He shook his head once more, smiling slightly, and now looked into the mirror above his sink. The face staring back at him took him a little by surprise. He leaned closer, surveying himself. What had changed?  
  
Yes, there was the obvious stuff-the things that still hadn't changed over all the years. His eyes were still that same shade of brilliant green. He still wore round glasses as well. He still had the same untidy, jet-black hair that he had inherited from his father. He was still skinny, but now that he was eighteen, he was no longer short for his age. He had become as taller at last, and now he and his friend Ron were nearly the same height, though Ron still beat him by several inches.  
  
No, nothing really had changed over seven years-except for one thing…  
  
Harry had never seen this new expression on his face. He had seen this face angry, had seen it smiling, laughing, frightened, defiant, sometimes even scratched up and bloody…but never, ever before had he seen such a quiet, desperate sadness etched here in his face. It looked as though he had seen something extremely terrible, something that had the power to remain there, in his mind; and slowly, over the years, it could somehow begin to show in his eyes, his face, his every expression.  
  
He tried several times to change the way he looked: he smiled, frowned, arranged his face into a puzzled yet polite look, but nothing changed. He continued to look in the mirror, twisting his head this way and that, frowning at his reflection, until finally he slammed his palms down onto the basin with a crash.  
  
"It's normal," Harry told himself. "You always look like that when you get older. It's nothing."  
  
He ran both hands through his hair, trying to smooth it down; but as always, he had no success. Giving up, he went over to his bed and threw himself on top of it. For a long moment he just lay there, his eyes closed, thinking about nothing in particular…  
  
Tap. Tap. Tap.  
  
He opened his eyes, staring at the window. Perched on the windowsill, her feathers blowing every which way because of the wind, was Hedwig, his snowy white owl and his own post deliverer. He leaped up and rushed to the window. It took several minutes of struggling before he realized that the window was stuck (or locked). He pulled out his wand.  
  
"Alohomora!"  
  
The window sprang open.  
  
The storm raging outside whipped his hair about and sent sprays of cold, stinging rain in with Hedwig.  
  
"Hedwig!" Harry said gratefully. "Thanks! Hurry up—inside—" He slammed the window down after Hedwig hopped in. He'd have to unstuck the window once more later.  
  
Hedwig gave a dignified sort of hoot as Harry stroked her, smoothing her rumpled feathers back down. It was when he was straightening her tail feathers that he noticed a note-a rather wet and soggy note, but still a note-attached to her leg.  
  
"Gee…" he said, untying the letter, "Thanks a lot, Hedwig."  
  
He placed her back inside her cage, offering her some Owl Treats, and flopped back down on his bed to read the note. He peeled it apart very carefully, cringing whenever a small part of the sopping-wet paper ripped a bit.  
  
Finally, he got the note open (he was surprised to see that the handwriting was still legible) and spread it out on his bed to read it. He grinned as he recognized Hermione Granger's handwriting.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hello! Have you had a good summer so far?  
  
I didn't really know if I should have sent this to you right when Hedwig arrived-the weather looks as though it won't be so great, and I'm a little afraid that Hedwig might be blown off course…however, I figured that I should send it as soon as possible anyway, since I've got something important to tell you.  
  
Ron told me that you were staying at the Leaky Cauldron now. I think that's a very splendid turn of events, because I'll be coming down to Diagon Alley myself in about a week or two. I have to get a bit of money out of Gringotts, and I am currently looking for a good wizarding job-I don't want to become a dentist like my parents!  
  
Will you still be there in a week? Maybe we can meet there in Diagon Alley! I just got a letter from Ron and he said he might be going down to London too, though maybe a bit later than I am coming.  
  
I really hope you'll stay just a little longer. I'd like a chance to catch up with you and Ron on what's happening, wouldn't you agree?  
  
If you're not going to be there, then just send Hedwig back with a note(when the weather gets a bit better, of course) and I'll just continue writing to you instead. Try to stay there a bit longer, all right Harry?  
  
Have fun (and thank Hedwig for me)!  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry's grin became wider as he read and reread the letter. It made him extremely pleased to have a letter written to him, especially a letter from one of his best friends. He thought about sending a note to Ron, but the weather outside had worsened quite a bit, and he didn't think Hedwig's chances of battling the gusts of wind and blankets of rain were good.  
  
He knew the moment his eye passed over her letter that he would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron; now that one (or both) of his friends were coming to visit, he would never want to leave.  
  
He looked outside the window again, his heart feeling considerably lighter than it did a few moments ago, when he was in front of the mirror…  
  
Harry decided that he shouldn't have to wait long before getting a response from Ron. After long deliberation, he finally pulled out an old quill, a half-finished bottle of ink, and a piece of parchment that he decided wasn't too wrinkled to be a hindrance.  
  
"I seriously have to go back down to Flourish and Blotts to get some new writing stuff," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Finally, he got started on his letter.  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
Hello again. It's me, Harry, remember?  
  
Right now, I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron here in Diagon Alley. I'm all right here, except for the weather. Don't you reckon it's a bit unusual for it to be raining and for it to be so windy at this point in the summer? Maybe it's just fall and winter creeping up on us.  
  
I just received a letter from Hermione a few minutes ago. It turns out that she's coming to Diagon Alley too, and maybe she'll stay in the Leaky Cauldron as well. She told me that you had sent a letter telling her that you would be coming to Diagon Alley for a bit too. Are you really? If you are, then that's good. It'll be just like old times.  
  
Well, I guess that's all I wanted to say for now. Try and come down to London. If not, I'll just do what Hermione said and write to you some more.  
  
I'll send Hedwig off with this in a little while; I don't think she'll get through in this kind of weather. Say hello to your family for me.  
  
  
  
Harry  
  
Yes, Harry thought, that looked about right. He normally checked over his letters to see if he had made too many errors or blotted some wet ink on the paper by mistake, but he didn't feel like it. He glanced out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now. He had never seen it so dark, even at nighttime. There was a crash, a loud BOOM, and Harry thought he could hear a very odd scraping noise against the walls. Hedwig gave a startled hoot as a flash of lightning lit up Harry's room and a clap of thunder follow.  
  
Harry sighed and folded the letter up. He'd better not chance sending his letter until he could be sure that Hedwig could make it through the sky. His note to Ron would have to wait.  
  
He pulled on his pajamas swiftly and went over to Hedwig's cage. He picked up the now shivering owl and stroked her feathers once more, speaking soothingly to her. "Don't worry," he told Hedwig, running his hand across her back, "I'm not going to send you out there, not in this weather."  
  
Hedwig hooted in a relieved sort of way. Harry smiled as he stroked her, not realizing that little by little his smile gave way to a sad frown. He wondered why he didn't feel happier. Hermione and Ron were both coming over (at least he hoped so) for the rest of the summer holidays. They were his best friends! However…why wasn't he excited like he normally would have been?  
  
Maybe it was all those things that had happened to him in the years past. He remembered how disbelieving he had been after he had watched Voldemort's defeat. He remembered how detached he had felt in the months and years later, while Dumbledore was doing everything he could to prevent Voldemort's second rise to power. He remembered, only vaguely, how he had felt when he had heard the news of Voldemort's defeat. Never again would Voldemort strike fear into the hearts of wizards everywhere. Never again would he tear people apart by his evil actions…  
  
Harry shook his head. It was still painful to think about all that he had been through all those years.  
  
He turned his attention to Hedwig again. "So what d'you reckon?" he murmured, stroking her obligingly. Hedwig hooted again, in a softer, deeper, reassuring kind of way. Harry smiled. "Really? But you wouldn't really care, would you? After all, you're just happy that You-Know-Who's gone, aren't you? Like all the other wizards… but sometimes…sometimes I can't help feeling as though he's still here, you know? He'll never really die, in my opinion…what about you? What do you think?" Hedwig, feeling that some other, more meaningful response was needed, butted his hand roughly with her head and clicked her beak. Harry's smile became even wider.  
  
"I guess we'll never really know, will we, Hedwig?" he said quietly as he carried her back to her cage. "I'll just have to do what Hagrid said…what's going to happen will happen, and we'll just have to meet it when it does…"  
  
He gave her a last pat on her beautiful, snowy head, and closed the cage door. He threw his cloak over her cage to calm her down in case any more lightning pierced the windows, and settled down in his own bed. He was beginning to shiver himself because of the wind rattling the windows. As he curled up under the covers, he couldn't help feeling a little bit scared of the weather and darkness outside. He hadn't seen such a rainstorm in quite a while.  
  
He sighed, burying his head in his pillow. It was foolish to even think of things as small and trivial as a rainstorm. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the rain pattering outside lull him to sleep.  
  
He couldn't help thinking right before he fell asleep that it was extremely hard, even now, to even get worried about the prospect of Voldemort's legacy.  
  
Not when there were friends to be welcomed, at least… 


	3. Hermione's Return

Chapter Three  
  
Hermione's Return  
  
It was nearly a week after Harry had sent his letter to Ron. He was expecting at least Hermione to arrive any day now.  
  
Hermione had sent him another letter two days ago, telling him to expect her on the sixth of July. Well, Harry noted as he looked at his calendar chart-today was July 6. Grinning, he thought that he should go outside and greet Hermione as soon as she arrived. It would be great to see her again.  
  
Although it had stopped raining, the wind was as strong as ever. He pulled on his thickest, warmest cloak before going outside, but decided not to pull up the hood up just yet.  
  
Harry soon discovered that was a big mistake. The wind whipped his hair about so much that Harry had to clamp a hand upon the top of his head to keep it from getting in his face too much. He squinted, looking for any sign of Hermione. He suddenly remembered a particularly discouraging thought-in both her letters, Hermione hadn't told Harry how she would be arriving at Diagon Alley. Maybe Hermione was already there, in one of the shops, looking all around for him. Maybe she Apparated…maybe she used Floo Powder… Harry felt a sinking, sinking feeling in his stomach as all the possibilities popped up in his mind. How would he ever figure it out?  
  
Disappointed but still slightly hopeful, Harry finally pulled the hood up on his cloak. The wind continued to howl and the hood flapped in the gusts. With one hand clutching his hood tightly to his head, he peered anxiously to the left and right for any sign of Hermione. He couldn't see much, especially with the edges of his cloak blocking his vision many times.  
  
He sat down on the Leaky Cauldron steps to wait. Leaves and other bits of debris fluttered past him like many red-and-brown birds. He sighed exasperatedly as he realized yet another discouraging thought, and one that he was amazed to find that he had overlooked…in all those letters, he hadn't once asked Hermione what time she would be arriving.  
  
Time seemed to crawl and go on fast-forward at the same time. Harry checked his watch after quite a while seemed to have gone by and was startled to see that it was already lunchtime. He was just considering going into the Leaky Cauldron for a quick lunch when he heard a soft clatter. He looked up, glancing left and right for the source of the noise. Nothing.  
  
Harry sighed and leaned back on the sidewalk, watching the few people who were brave enough to battle the stormy winds to walk around and purchase potion ingredients. There was nothing but the soft howl of the wind for a while.  
  
Suddenly there was a great clattering and banging noise way off in the distance. Harry glanced up, squinting his green eyes behind his glasses. What was that?  
  
He stood up, stepping off the pavement onto the cobbled street, and as he looked in the direction of the noise, he thought he saw a flash of bright purple, too fast to follow. A normal man wouldn't have been able to see that second of color, but of course, Harry had been the youngest seeker in a century. He had always been able to see things that were too quick for any normal wizard or Muggle. He squinted even more desperately through the windy gloom. Where did it go…?  
  
There! There was another BANG, another flash of purple, and a glint of gold lettering-this time the disturbance, or whatever it was, was a lot closer to him. Harry suddenly knew what he was seeing.  
  
He leaped back onto the pavement, just in time. With a final series of crashes and bangs, a large, triple-decker bus had slammed to a halt in front of him. Harry's heart leaped as he saw it.  
  
The bus, of course, was none other than the Knight Bus, "emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard." It was violently purple and had extremely bright gold lettering over its windshield and down its sides. Harry grinned, and all of his crushing disappointment about Hermione's visit faded away…  
  
A wizard, probably in his early twenties, hopped down from the inside of the bus. He had quite a bad case of acne, even after all those years that Harry had first met him…  
  
"Oy!" Stan Shunpike gave a cry of surprise and joy when he saw who was under the cloak. "It's you, ain't it? 'Ey, Ern!" he cried out. "Would 'choo look at this? Remember when Neville Longbottom turned out 'oo be Harry Potter? Look, Ern, tha's 'im!"  
  
"Hullo, Stan," Harry said, grinning at the bus' conductor as Ernie Prang, the Knight Bus driver, poked his bespectacled and wrinkled head out the door.  
  
"So, Neville!" Stan said. "'Choo back again, aren' ye?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, having to shout a bit over the screams of the wind.  
  
"Wouldn't fancy stayin' out in this weather, though!" Stan yelled back. "Least ye got your cloak on…all I got is me uniform…"  
  
"Oy, Stan!" Ernie hollered. "Get our passenger!"  
  
"Oh…" Stan looked sheepish. "Right."  
  
Ernie grinned and nodded at Harry as Stan disappeared back into the bus. "All right there, Neville?" he howled over the wind.  
  
"Couldn't be better!" Harry replied loudly, tightening his grip on his cloak. He feared he might be blown away at any moment.  
  
Stan came back out, leading another cloaked and hooded figure out. " 'Ere you go," he said, hauling a large trunk down the steps of the Knight Bus. He set it down on the pavement next to Harry.  
  
"Best be off, Neville," Ernie said. "Got to get to loads o' places today…lots of stranded witches and wizards…"  
  
"Good luck to you!" Harry shouted as the cloaked figure went down the Knight Bus steps.  
  
"'Bye, Neville!" Stan called gaily as the Knight Bus doors swished shut. There was an almighty BANG, and the Knight Bus had disappeared off to its next destination.  
  
Harry turned to the person who had just stepped off the Knight Bus. He pulled down his hood. "Hi, Hermione," he said, grinning as his hair was whipped back from his face once more.  
  
The other person gave a start, and looked quickly at him. There was a squeal, and suddenly all the breath was knocked out of him as she flung herself forward and hugged him very tightly around the neck.  
  
"Harry!" It was Hermione, just as he hoped. "How-how did you…?"  
  
"Never mind that," Harry said. "Er…Hermione…you're strangling me a bit…"  
  
"Oh! Right…" She jumped back, and pushed her hood back a bit so that they could get a better look at each other. Strands of her bushy hair escaped from the depths of the hood and were immediately snatched up and whipped about by the wind. "Harry!" she said again. "Really…I didn't expect you to wait for me like this…I wanted to surprise you."  
  
"That's all right," Harry said. "I've had enough surprises in my life anyway."  
  
Hermione grinned. "Well…I'd really pull down my hood if I could, but the wind is too strong, and…"  
  
"It's no problem," Harry assured her. He had to shout again over the voice of the wind. "So, how was your trip on the Knight Bus? Why didn't you Apparate or something instead?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I thought it would be a fitting start to my journey."  
  
"Well said."  
  
"Actually, I thought it would be a real shock to you. It was to me, anyway," Hermione said, grinning rather mischievously. "I was the one who got surprised."  
  
Harry grinned again at her. "Well, I already know the feeling. The Knight Bus wasn't exactly comfortable, was it?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "You tell me!" Her expression changed a bit, turning into a rather quizzical one. "You know, Harry…" she said, surveying him, "You look a lot different. Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah…" he said. He felt himself turning red by her stare. "I was thinking the same thing myself, actually." More to stop her from gazing at him too closely, he looked down at her trunk. "Well…let's bring this inside, shall we?" he said, picking up one end of it.  
  
"Oh!" Hermione said. "Right--oh and by the way, I brought Crookshanks."  
  
At that moment, Harry felt something brush against his leg. He looked down to see Crookshanks, Hermione's old bandy-legged cat. He looked up at Harry with his large yellow eyes. Agreeably, Harry bent down and scratched Crookshanks behind his ginger-colored ears. "Hi there, Crookshanks, old fellow." Crookshanks gave a rusty sort of purr.  
  
Harry straightened up. "Well, we'd better get going."  
  
Together they hauled her trunk into the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, Crookshanks loping along behind them. Tom the innkeeper came up to them, grinning toothlessly. "Would the miss like some tea?" he asked them. "We can put your trunk into your room in a bit."  
  
"Yes please," Harry said. "Thanks, Tom."  
  
They set the trunk down and headed off to a small, out-of-the-way table far off in the corner. Crookshanks lay on the floor, purring softly. Hermione finally removed her cloak as she sat down across from him. "I forgot to ask you something while we were out there, Harry," she said, smiling mischievously again. "Why did Stan call you Neville Longbottom?"  
  
"Well…" Harry felt himself growing rather red again. "It's a very long story…"  
  
"Oh don't worry," Hermione said as Tom plunked two teacups, a platter of biscuits, and teapot in front of them. He bowed low and disappeared. "I've got a lot of time, Harry."  
  
"Well, all right." Harry looked down into his tea. "Er…remember when I was in third year and I ran away from home because…because I blew up my aunt?"  
  
"Oh! Yes!" Hermione said, laughing. Harry grinned, though his face still burned. He told Hermione the whole long story of how he had run out into Magnolia Crescent in the dead of night, stumbled and stuck out his wand hand by accident; and as he fell backwards, the Knight Bus had come whooshing to his aid for the first time.  
  
"And…and I…thought that since I had done some serious magic, I thought that I shouldn't make it too easy for the Ministry of Magic to come and arrest me. So…I…told Stan that my name was Neville Longbottom, and he believed me. Of course, when I got here and the Minister of Magic was waiting for me, Stan and Ernie found out that I was really Harry Potter. But I guess Stan still thinks that I'm Neville."  
  
To his immense relief, Hermione didn't laugh too long or too loud about his story. She only giggled and took a sip of tea. Not having anything else to say either, Harry took a biscuit from the saucer but didn't eat it.  
  
"So…did you hear from Ron lately?" Harry asked her. "I sent him a letter, but Hedwig hasn't returned yet."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione said. "He sent me a letter just yesterday, in fact. He's coming over to the Leaky Cauldron later in the week…probably on Wednesday."  
  
"Is he all right? With Percy and everything?"  
  
Hermione laughed again. "He sounded irritated in his last letter. He said Percy was howling at him because Ron was using all his good quills."  
  
"Well, you know them," Harry said, grinning. "They've got to share everything, haven't they?"  
  
"Percy's been using the excuse that he needed to work," Hermione said rather dryly, taking a biscuit herself. "But Ron says he'll be all right. He said Fred and George are playing tricks on the whole family again. They're sticking Bertie Bott's beans in all their food. Oh, and he said to tell you…" she grinned. "Ginny said to tell you hello."  
  
Harry laughed. Ginny Weasley, Ron's youngest and only sister, had always been very taken with Harry since Harry had been in second year. "How is Ginny, by the way? I forgot to ask Ron how she was."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Ron said that Ginny still goes into floods whenever she hears your name-especially since you left Hogwarts."  
  
"Well…I'll tell Ron to say hi to Ginny for me," Harry said, playing with his biscuit absentmindedly. Hermione smiled again and took a sip of her tea. Both of them looked up, however, when they heard a voice call out Harry's name.  
  
"Harry Potter?" It was Tom the innkeeper. "Your owl's back. It's got a note for you."  
  
"R-really?" Harry accidentally dropped his biscuit into his cup of tea with a small splash. Hermione stifled a laugh.  
  
"Yes…just thought you'd like to know," Tom said. "You can go up whenever you'd like. Oh, and by the way," he said, looking at Hermione. "I've put your trunk into your room for you. First door on the left."  
  
"Thanks, Tom," said Harry and Hermione. "Well, then," Hermione said, putting down her empty teacup, "Shall we go upstairs then?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied, grateful that he could finally get up and do something other than sit in the parlor and feel uncomfortable. He raced upstairs, Hermione at his heels, and flung himself into his room. Hermione followed him inside.  
  
Hedwig was indeed there, sitting on a post of Harry's bed, and looking very pleased with herself. She hooted as Harry came in and gave him an affectionate nip on the hand as he untied her letter.  
  
"It's from Ron!" Harry said excitedly, ripping open the note.  
  
"Well then, read it!" Hermione said, obligingly stroking Hedwig on the head.  
  
Harry unfolded Ron's letter and began to read it aloud.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hello! How are you, Harry?  
  
Things are all right here, except for Percy of course; but that's not unusual.  
  
Pigwidgeon, too…he's driving me crazy. I had to throw a load of my old school clothes on his cage to try and quiet him down- but then Mum got mad at me. She said it was a waste of laundry or something like that. Anyway-  
  
I hope your summer, at least, was a bit better than mine. I got a letter from Hermione a few days ago-she said she's on her way to the Leaky Cauldron. I think she might be there already-I don't know exactly how fast Hedwig can return to you. Well, if she's there, tell her hi from me.  
  
I think she already told you in her last letter that I'm coming over too. As it turns out it's getting closer to September 1st. You know, the day the Hogwarts Express leaves! Ginny is going off to her last year at Hogwarts. We're getting her new school stuff (well, as much of it as we can afford, anyway) the week before the train leaves. Mum and Ginny are going to be coming with me. We'll all stay in the Leaky Cauldron together; my mum and Ginny will leave after September 1st. They're really excited to see you, especially Ginny (if you know what I mean).  
  
Hope to see you at the Leaky Cauldron!  
  
Your Friend  
  
Ron Weasley  
  
"So Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley are coming together?" Hermione squealed excitedly.  
  
"It certainly seems so," Harry said, rereading the letter over and over.  
  
"I can't believe it!" Hermione sighed. "All three of us, together again!"  
  
"Yeah…" Harry was reading the letter for the third time.  
  
Hermione looked up and frowned. "You could look more happy, Harry," she said teasingly. "Your best friends are back! Isn't it wonderful?"  
  
"Oh I'm happy," Harry said, folding up the letter at last and grinning. "I'm just relieved."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I thought Ron would be bringing the whole family. You know-Bill, Charlie, Percy-the works. It's a good thing he's only bringing Ginny and his mum. Shame about Mr. Weasley not coming, though. I thought he might like some more information about plugs and electricity, is all."  
  
Hermione tried to laugh, but her laugh only got stifled by a yawn. "Well…I'd really like to talk to you longer, Harry, but…I'm really tired. The Knight Bus left first thing in the morning, plus there were a load of other witches and wizards on board with me…anyway, I didn't get much sleep."  
  
"Sure," Harry said. "You'd better get on to your room then, Hermione. You look a bit dead on your feet."  
  
Hermione gave a sleepy sort of laugh and retreated out of Harry's room. "Well…I'll see you later then, Harry. Thanks for waiting for me."  
  
"It was nothing."  
  
He waited until Hermione had closed her door behind her, then picked up the happily hooting Hedwig and placed her inside her cage.  
  
Now, if Hermione's visit weren't enough, he had a whole horde of visitors coming to visit him. A wide grin cracked over his face as he thought of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley's reactions. Ginny would probably turn blush red, and Mrs. Weasley would most likely throw her arms around his neck like she always did when Harry visited her.  
  
Harry sighed. Well, he wouldn't have long to wait. He'd find out any day now. 


	4. The Strange Attack

Chapter Four  
  
The Strange Attack  
  
The next week was quite uneventful to Harry, even though Hermione had arrived. Since Hermione was searching for possible job ideas ("Well, we can't all just live on our parent's money, can we?"), she spent a lot of time looking at all the shops around Diagon Alley, especially in the bookstore Flourish and Blotts. She also expressed interest in a Ministry of Magic job, but didn't get her hopes up too high.  
  
"After all, it's supposedly very difficult to get in," Hermione said. "You need to be a pure-blood, I think." She made a face at that. "You also need to be very clever, and be very wise in magical matters--"  
  
"I don't think you need to worry, Hermione," Harry said with a grin. "You were one of the top students at Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione was quite pleased about Harry's statement. She turned rather red in the face (though she grinned widely just the same) and began stuttering, "Er--how about we go into Flourish and Blotts one more time--I think I might be able to look up something there--"  
  
Harry shrugged and followed her into the bookshop.  
  
Ron, too, had not said how he, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny were going to get there-"Probably by Floo Powder, though," Hermione said after she had gotten over Harry's compliment--but he did say that they were going to get there by the last two weeks of August.  
  
On the Saturday of the second-to-last week of August, Harry and Hermione were back among the shops at Diagon Alley. The blustery winds from the weeks before had died down completely, and it was a very hot day. After slogging through the cobblestone streets for only half an hour, Hermione finally said, "Let's go sit down somewhere, we need to rest."  
  
"Good idea," Harry panted.  
  
They had sat down in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor to rest and eat a bit of ice cream when they heard a voice floating out toward them.  
  
"Harry! Hermione!"  
  
Both of them looked up. Ron Weasley was running toward them, grinning from ear to ear. He was still tall and long-legged, and his flaming-red hair stood out among the summer crowd. Harry grinned and waved at him. Hermione, smiling too, pulled out another chair so that Ron could flop down beside them.  
  
"Finally!" he gasped, pushing his red hair out of his eyes. "We used Floo Powder to get here-"  
  
"I thought so," Harry said.  
  
"-and we ended up way at the other end of Diagon Alley. We were looking for you for about an hour, and we looked everywhere, we must've been around Diagon Alley twice...but I finally suggested we stop here so that we could eat some sundaes to cool us down, and I saw you and Hermione come out of the Apothecary and head over here, and I tried to get to you. But there's a lot of people here, so it took nearly ten minutes to get out of the crowd..."  
  
"Where's your mum and Ginny?" Hermione asked, scanning the flock of people in front of them.  
  
"What?" Ron said, suddenly realizing he had left his family behind. "Oh no-"  
  
Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny pushed their way out of the crowd just then. As usual, when Ginny spotted Harry, she blushed furiously. "H- hello, Harry," Ginny mumbled, not quite looking at him.  
  
"Hi, Ginny," Harry replied, grinning. "How were your summer holidays?"  
  
"Er...fine..." Ginny blushed even more, if that was possible.  
  
"Harry! Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's face broke into a huge smile. She hugged Hermione twice and Harry too, and she kissed them both once on the cheek. Harry felt himself go rather red with embarrassment, but was pleased all the same.  
  
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, grinning at her.  
  
"Hello, Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's been such a long time since I've seen you all...oh look at you, you look so much older..." She beamed at Harry and Hermione. "Seems like only yesterday you were asking me how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," she added to Harry, winking at him.  
  
"It has been a while," he admitted cheerfully. "So you are all going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron answered, grinning. "Mum and Ginny are staying until September First-have I told you that already?"  
  
"Well," Hermione said, "Shall we all go back to the inn?"  
  
"Oh no, that's all right, dear," Mrs. Weasley said hurriedly. "We've already put all our trunks and everything in our rooms. We're heading off to Gringotts first to get a bit of gold out of our vault. Wouldn't you like to come with us?"  
  
"Sure--it's not like we have anything else to do anyway," Harry said offhandedly. He and Hermione both finished the last of their ice cream and trooped off after Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"So how are Fred and George?" Hermione asked with great interest as they strode through the crowd. She and Harry had argued nearly all the previous week about what Fred and George were doing now, since they had left Hogwarts. They had not heard about Fred and George's exploits ever since they had been on their own.  
  
"Oh, the usual," Mrs. Weasley said, arranging her face into a grimace. "Hiding gnomes in our shoes, leaving their old fake wands around, putting trick sweets in our food-they just never seem to want to stop. Like I always said before, it's not as though they haven't got brains, they just don't want to use them for the right things. I would have thought that they would act a bit more mature since they left Hogwarts, but I guess I was wrong."  
  
Harry couldn't think of any answer to this, as Fred and George-even when they were playing pranks on everyone else-were extremely funny and always managed to make Harry feel better when he was upset. So Harry coughed uncomfortably as a reply.  
  
"We're here!" Ginny said, looking up.  
  
Harry looked up too. Towering in front of them was a huge, snow-white building. GRINGOTTS WIZARDING BANK was engraved across its top. A goblin, wearing a scarlet uniform, waved them through the massive gates.  
  
"I need to get some money out too," Hermione said, checking her purse. "I'm nearly out..."  
  
"Well then, we'll take one cart to our vault, and you three can take one to yours," Mrs. Weasley said, fishing in her pockets for the key to the Weasley vault. "Here it is!"  
  
A moment later, Mrs. Weasley had shown the key to a Gringotts goblin, who had summoned two carts each for the Weasleys and for Harry and Hermione.  
  
Ron, Harry, and Hermione got into the same cart, while Ginny and Mrs. Weasley got into the other, and away they went.  
  
"So how is your dad?" Harry said to Ron as they rattled down the track. Ron grinned widely.  
  
"Oh the usual," Ron said. "His plug and battery collection is growing quite large. We're falling flat on our faces because he keeps his batteries lying on the floor for us to trip on."  
  
"He still collects plugs?" Hermione asked, incredulous.  
  
"Are you kidding? He's got more plugs than I have got wizard cards." This was saying something, as Ron had several hundred wizard cards left over from Chocolate Frogs. Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads, amused.  
  
The cart screeched to stop. "Here it is," Hermione said, running over to her vault. "You wait out here...I'll get my money..."  
  
"How about Percy?" Harry said as Hermione went into the vault. "How's he doing?"  
  
Ron made a face. "He's gone barmy, I tell you. He won't stop working. No matter how much Mum begs him to. He even tried to eat dinner up in his room so he could work at the same time, but Mum and Dad threw a fit, so he had to eat with us. He doesn't like it though, just stuffs the whole lot of food down as fast as he can. He's taking his job a bit too seriously if you ask me."  
  
"And Pigwidgeon? Still driving you crazy?"  
  
"More than you can imagine," Ron said with a sigh. "He keeps zooming around his cage and hooting. He banged into the walls of that cage a couple times, actually. Mum got mad at me for that--said that we can't afford to lose Pig, because Errol is too old to deliver anymore. She said I give Pig too many Owl Treats. But Owl Treats are the only thing that'll shut him up. I'm at a loss, Harry."  
  
"Me too, come to think of it."  
  
"Well--enough about me, what did you and Hermione do before I came?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Not much. We mostly just hung out in Diagon Alley. Hermione reckons that she could take a job with Flourish and Blotts, or maybe a Ministry job...but she's not sure...do you have to be a pure-blood to be in the Ministry of Magic?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "They lifted that rule a few months ago. But Hemrione still might have difficulty, because even though that requirement was lifted, no Muggle-born wizards or witches have gone in to work for the Ministry yet. It's still dominated by pure-bloods."  
  
"Yeah...she was a bit worried about that," Harry said. "But I told her that she was certainly clever enough."  
  
"Good thinking," Ron said approvingly. "You know how much Hermione likes compliments."  
  
Harry grinned, just as Hermione came out of her vault, clutching a leather bag full of gold. "Okay--I'm done!"  
  
They clambered back into the cart and rushed off again.  
  
"Harry told me you're looking to get a Ministry job," Ron shouted to Hermione over the sound of the cart wheels rattling.  
  
"Yeah, I am," Hermione shouted back. "Though I don't know--Ron, do you have to be a pure-blood to get in?"  
  
"Not anymore!" Ron replied. "But no Muggle-born wizards have gone in yet--hey, Hermione, if you get in now, maybe you could set a record or something!"  
  
"Oh please," Hermione scoffed.  
  
"Though Percy wouldn't like that, actually-he disapproves of too much attention."  
  
"You wouldn't know, would you?" Harry yelled as the Gringotts cart emitted a particularly loud rattle (they had rolled over a rather rough part of the track). "Remember when he became Head Boy?"  
  
Ron grinned. "Who could forget--ow! Hey!"  
  
The cart slammed to a stop at the end of the tracks, pitching all three of them forward. "I can never get used to that," Ron said, shaking his head.  
  
They got out rather unsteadily. Harry was straightening his glasses (which had nearly fallen off when the cart stopped) when he saw Mrs. Weasley and Ginny heading toward them. He saw at once that their money bag looked a lot lighter than Hermione's did (the Weasleys were notoriously poor). He tried to look as though he hadn't noticed this.  
  
"Hello, dears," Mrs. Weasley said. "We've got everything we need for now--Ginny and I are going to Flourish And Blotts--why don't you three go exploring? We won't be long."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Ron said.  
  
"We'll meet back at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, How's that? Is that all right with you?"  
  
"Yes," chorused Harry and Hermione.  
  
"All right then," Mrs. Weasley said, waving Ginny along. "Come along, Ginny, we've got to get your new robes and books."  
  
With a final wave, both Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had disappeared through the crowd.  
  
"Where do you want to go then?" Ron asked Harry. "Quality Quidditch Supplies?"  
  
"Sure...why not?" Harry said. "How about you, Hermione?"  
  
"It's fine with me."  
  
"And after that," Ron added, "Let's go to Eeylops Owl Emporium. I want to see if I can find anything there that can shut Pig up without Mum getting angry."  
  
"Pigwidgeon still driving you nuts, Ron?" Hermione laughed.  
  
"Ask Harry," Ron said, grimacing. "I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
Still chatting enjoyably, they all headed into Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Oh wow!" Ron breathed, looking with great interest at what looked like a large leather briefcase. "Look, Harry-the Broomstick Servicing Kit Two-made exclusively for Firebolts!" He picked it up, reading off of the cover. " 'This Broomstick Servicing Kit contains: One jar of improved-formula High-Finish Handle Polish (guaranteed to make your Firebolt's handle smooth and shiny as glass), Tail-Twig Clippers (special design to clip your tail-twigs just right-even has a tiny alarm to inform you when you're cutting the twigs too short), a speed meter to tell you how fast you're flying (with attachments so that you can clip it to your broom handle), a compass for long journeys, and an Extended Handbook of Do-It- Yourself Broomcare (with new charms and spells to repair your broomstick). ' " He looked up at Harry. "Wow, Harry, think of how much stuff there is in here!"  
  
"I already have one of those," Harry said. "The one Hermione gave me."  
  
"Oh--right--" Ron looked slightly put out. "Still, though...that one was made exclusively for Firebolts..."  
  
"My Firebolt doesn't need servicing yet, Ron," Harry reminded him, steering him away from the Broomstick Servicing Kit. "Come and look over here, Ron. There's some new Chudley Cannon merchandise." Even though he was eighteen, Ron was still a tremendous fan of the Chudley Cannons, as he always had been since he could say the word Quidditch.  
  
"Wow!" Ron's eyes lit up at the products. "Chudley Cannon player figurines-miniature broomsticks-Chudley Cannons clothes-a new Cannons book, oh wow...Flying With The Cannons, Volume Two-this is awesome, Harry!"  
  
"He's like a little kid in a candy shop," Hermione whispered to Harry as Ron darted here and there, exclaiming at all the Chudley Cannons merchandise.  
  
"Well, he doesn't get to spend that much money, does he?" Harry murmured back. "I expect this is like paradise for him."  
  
Hermione giggled, and Ron finally came back and joined them as they headed out of Quality Quidditch Supplies.  
  
"Stuff like that makes me wish I weren't so poor," Ron said halfheartedly as they walked toward Eeylops Owl Emporium.  
  
"You don't need to worry, Ron," Harry said. "Once you're own your own, and earning your own money, you can go and get all the Cannons stuff you want."  
  
"But don't blow all your money on it," Hermione, the ever-sensible one, said.  
  
"Hope you're right, both of you," Ron said. "We're here..."  
  
Harry and Hermione walked around, gazing at all the owls, as Ron made his way toward the counter and began asking the lady behind it about owls. Harry found himself bumping into Hermione a lot, mainly because it was so dark in the shop; also because several times an owl hooted loudly behind him, startling him and making him jump backward.  
  
Finally, Ron strode away from the counter, and they all headed outside, squinting in the bright sunlight.  
  
"The woman said that maybe Mum was right, that Pig might be so noisy because I give him too much Owl Treats. She said lighten it up a bit, not to give him so much, and he should quiet down-but what do I do if Owl Treats are the only thing that can make him calm down?"  
  
Still shaking his head, they picked their way through the crowd back to the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were already waiting for them outside, still clutching their purchases.  
  
"Hello, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Did you have fun?"  
  
"Mostly," Harry said. "Shall we go in and have lunch now, Mrs. Weasley?"  
  
"I suppose we should," she answered, and they went into the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
There was a large lunchtime crowd in there, full of chattering people, and even some younger, little witches and wizards. They were jostled around quite a bit (Ginny stumbled twice and once Harry caught her by the arm, which made her turn quite red), and finally they made it to an empty booth near a corner--but the table looked like it only seated four.  
  
"Oh my," Mrs. Weasley said worriedly. "And there's not a chair to be spared, not one...how about...Harry, you're quite thin, you get in first, and--no, Ginny, don't sit there, wait--all right, I think I can figure this out...Ginny, you're small too, you squeeze in there next to Harry..."  
  
Ginny looked extremely startled and embarrassed. Ron and Hermione both grinned at Harry.  
  
"And Ron, Hermione, you sit there--" Ron and Hermione clambered into their seats-- "and I'll sit with Ginny and Harry, and we should fit," Mrs. Weasley finished.  
  
Much to Harry's surprise, they did fit quite well, except for the fact that Ginny was slightly squashed between him and her mother. "You all right, Ginny?" Harry asked her. She did look rather uncomfortable, though that was probably because she was right next to Harry.  
  
"Fine, thanks," Ginny mumbled.  
  
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, "There's going to be a long wait before we can get food, because of this crowd. We can manage though, right? Harry, Hermione, you already ate something, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And we had a big breakfast...I guess we should be okay. After all, at least we got here--if we'd have gotten in later we would have to skip lunch. I guess we can wait for a while."  
  
They did wait, talking to pass the time (though Ginny didn't say much, no matter how many times Harry tried to get her to talk with the rest of them) until finally, they were able to order.  
  
It was already one-thirty in the afternoon when they dug into a large chocolate pudding, their dessert. Ginny seemed to be feeling a lot better, and even talked to Harry and the others for a while.  
  
"It's going to be strange, going into seventh year," Ginny remarked. "I remember as if it were yesterday my first day ever at Hogwarts...my first year..."  
  
"Who could forget?" Ron said, his mouth full of pudding. "That was the year the basilisk Petrified everyone, remember?"  
  
"I know," Ginny said, shuddering at the memory. "Don't remind me." Mrs. Weasley shot Ron a look that clearly said, "Don't upset your sister."  
  
"Well...you don't need to worry too much, Ginny," Hermione said. "You're one of the lucky ones, after all...now that You-Know-Who is gone, there's really nothing to get too scared about--"  
  
Something stirred in Harry's mind. "Now that You-Know-Who is gone, there's nothing to be scared about." You-Know-Who may have been defeated, but there were still a lot of things to be wary of...the Dark Arts were still around, yes, and evil would always exist, but there was something else--what if, Harry thought, what if Voldemort still, somehow, lived on? Yes, he knew that Voldemort would never rise again, in his physical state that is, but...not all of his Death Eaters had surrendered. Some of them are still out there, wanting revenge for their master, wanting to kill--  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Huh? What?" Harry was jerked out of his thoughts quite suddenly.  
  
Everyone sitting there at the table was staring at him. "Harry," Hermione said uncertainly, "Harry, are you all right? You seemed lost in thought there."  
  
"What?" Harry said again. "Oh yeah...sorry, I must have been daydreaming or something..."  
  
"It's all right," Mrs. Weasley said. "We're all getting a little sleepy from this food, aren't we?"  
  
"Yep," Ron said, yawning.  
  
Harry wasn't any bit tired, though. He thought about Voldemort, about what he did, to Harry and to other wizards, and what his followers did...  
  
Hermione was discussing the Ministry of Magic with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny when suddenly Harry slammed his spoon down on the table with a clatter. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny all jumped.  
  
"Harry, what is it?" Ron asked, startled. Ginny and Hermione were both very wide-eyed.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said, taking a deep breath. He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Mrs. Weasley, I know that it's...difficult...to discuss this, but...what makes us so sure that Vol--that You-Know-Who is gone?"  
  
"Why, Harry--!" Mrs. Weasley said, quite taken aback. "Harry, you saw him disintegrate right in front of you! You and Albus Dumbledore saw him! There's no doubt that he's gone! What made you ask such a question?"  
  
"I don't mean him, literally," Harry said. "I meant...I meant his legacy. What he left behind. We all know that most of his followers surrendered to the Ministry of Magic, don't we? But not all of them let themselves be put in Azkaban! Not all of them have been captured! There could be more, roaming the Earth, free to do evil as their master taught them! What if they're still out there, just waiting for the right time to exact their revenge on us? Just like Voldemort did, when I was still in Hogwarts! They could be waiting to--to kill me, because I helped defeat Voldemort! They--"  
  
"Now, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said desperately, trying to calm Harry down, "There's no way that You-Know-Who's Death Eaters could lay a hand on you. You're very well protected, Dumbledore saw to that. You're surrounded by witches and wizards here--good witches and wizards--and no Death Eater would even try to look at you here, with your wizarding family all around you. There's nothing to worry about, Harry, You-Know-Who is gone and will never come back, I'm sure of it."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione broke in. "Look, Harry, Mrs. Weasley's right, no one working for You-Know-Who will ever try to hurt you again. Without You-Know-Who to tell them what to do, they're lost, they won't be around for long. Cheer up, Harry, please, it's no good worrying about it..."  
  
Harry frowned, but nodded. "Yeah...maybe...," he muttered. Everyone was staring at him again, this time looking quite concerned. Harry found that he couldn't find enough courage to argue again. "I guess you're right...I've just been...worrying too much..."  
  
"It's all right, Harry," Ron said, still looking concernedly at Harry. "Come on, there's no more food...we'd better get off to our rooms..."  
  
They pushed themselves away from the table, silent now, and proceeded one by one up the stairs to their bedrooms.  
  
Then something happened to Harry the very next day that made him seriously question Mrs. Weasley's and Hermione's opinion.  
  
He had gotten up very early, having found that he couldn't sleep that much. He pulled on his clothes and headed down the stairs, nodding to Tom the innkeeper, who was scrubbing the wooden tables. Narrow rays of weak sunlight poked through the windows and shone across the bar.  
  
Harry went outside and slumped against the wooden post supporting the rickety roof of the Leaky Cauldron. There was no one outside in Diagon Alley except him, mostly because the shops were all closed off. For about ten minutes Harry just stood there, his eyes closed, trying not to think of things like Voldemort or his Death Eaters...  
  
There was a funny prickling on the back of Harry's neck that made him open his eyes. He knew that feeling well--the feeling that he was being watched by something.  
  
He looked all around him, to the left, right, and even looking behind him, to try and see who was watching him...but there was no one in sight.  
  
He shrugged and leaned against the post again, but snapped fully awake again when a strange shiver passed through his whole body. He stepped away from the post, feeling quite frightened by now, as there was absolutely no one else out in the street. "Is there anyone out there?" he called, though he didn't really expect an answer.  
  
Harry wondered if he should retreat back into the Leaky Cauldron. There was definitely something there that shouldn't be...  
  
He took a step back, farther into the shade of the inn, when he heard a strange noise-the sound a cloak made when someone had begun walking very fast...that familiar swishing...  
  
Feeling very nervous now, he reached a shaking hand into his pocket and found...nothing. He felt very nervous now, out without his wand when he might very well be in danger...  
  
What happened next caught Harry completely off guard. There was a swish of something being waved in the air, right next to his face, and before he could move an inch there was a great, searing pain racing from an inch below his temple all the way to the corner of his mouth. He cried out, stumbling back, and heard another swishing noise, coming back for more.  
  
He stumbled again and tripped on the sidewalk, falling on his back. By pure instinct he swung his foot up and out in a violent kick and felt his foot collide with something solid-though he couldn't tell if he had hit the wall or something else. The pain on his face was nearly blinding him, as was the panic and fear racing through him. A fresh wave of horror ran through him as he watched his own blood, coming from his hurt face, spray out and splash onto the cobblestone street in front of him. For a few moments he only stood there, watching the cobblestones nearest him become stained with red...  
  
The swishing sound returned, a lot closer to his face now, bringing Harry out of his numb stupor. Pain and fear returned as he felt a whoosh of air from something very near to him. One thought pierced the pain and shock clouding his mind: It's coming back to kill me.  
  
That was enough for him. With another hoarse, terrified cry Harry got to his feet and staggered into the Leaky Cauldron. He heard more blood from his face falling on the sidewalk before he slammed the door after him. He clapped a hand to his face, gritting his teeth to stop himself from screaming.  
  
Tom the innkeeper was nowhere to be seen, though Harry could hear him shuffling around making morning tea. Gasping with pain, he thought about going to him for help-until he saw his own reflected face in a mirror on the wall opposite him.  
  
Blood flowed freely over his hand, which was still clamped to his cheek. There was a fresh wound running down almost the entire length of his face-from a bit below his right temple to the corner of his mouth. He had no idea how he had gotten the ghastly wound.  
  
That did it. He ran up the stairs, not caring about how much noise he was making, until he burst onto the landing where their rooms were. He struggled over to Hermione's room and banged on it three times, hoping against hope that she was already awake. The pain from his cut was excruciating. He hadn't felt so much pain since he had been at Hogwarts.  
  
She didn't come to the door immediately. With a low moan he crumpled to the floor in front of it, shaking uncontrollably with shock and fear and pain. His breath was coming in short, uneven hisses. Please come to the door, he thought desperately, please...  
  
He heard, as though it were a dream, quick footsteps coming toward him from the other side of the door. There was a soft click, and Hermione, still dressed in her pajamas and a bathrobe, opened the door at last. She clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw Harry huddled there, trembling, blood from his wound running down his face and hand.  
  
"Harry!" she shrieked, dropping to her knees beside him. "Harry-what- how did you-"  
  
"I d-don't know," he gasped. "I just-I just went outside, and there was a noise, but I c-couldn't see anything--and then--and then I heard another noise, like someone swinging something through the air, a-and it cut me across the face-" He felt the blood from the cut slithering down his neck now, leaking from between his fingers. He dared not tighten his hand onto his face for fear that he would feel more pain.  
  
There was a creak and a slam, and more footsteps sounded behind him. "Hermione, what's wrong, I heard you scream and-Harry!"  
  
The footsteps quickened, and someone ran over to Harry and Hermione and skidded to a stop. It was Ron.  
  
"What-what happened? Harry-your face-what-" Ron's voice shook. "How did it-"  
  
Hermione's face was extremely pale and ghostly. "Come on-" she said, taking Harry by the hand, "-get in my room, quick."  
  
Harry felt himself being pulled to his feet and staggered into Hermione's room, falling onto her bed. Ron followed him inside. He heard a hiss, a meow, and a sudden weight on his lap, and dimly heard Hermione's voice. "Get off, Crookshanks!" Meowing indignantly, the cat stepped daintily off his legs, and Harry felt the weight leave. He felt Hermione take off his glasses, which somehow didn't fall off when his face was slashed.  
  
"It doesn't have anything in it, it looks clean enough-" Harry heard Ron say, as though from a great distance. "I'll get some water to flush any dirt out of it-" There was a clink of a glass, the sound of water running, and suddenly something cold streamed down his face, sending a new wave of pain throughout Harry's face. He nearly screamed again.  
  
"Ron! You're not helping!" Hermione cried desperately. "Oh I don't know what to do-I think I'll bandage you up for now," Hermione said, and Harry heard the quiver of fear in her voice. There was a rustle of cloth and the slam of a trunk lid being hastily closed--Hermione had probably retrieved her wand. He heard her mutter something, and a moment later he felt the pressure of a bandage on his face. Bright-red blood bloomed on the surface of it.  
  
"Does that feel any better?" Hermione asked, nearly beside herself with worry and fright.  
  
"Yeah..." Harry mumbled, the constriction of the stiff bandage muffling off his words. The cut on his face didn't feel much better, but Harry couldn't bring himself to make Hermione feel worse than she did now. She looked as shaken as Harry felt.  
  
"Can you tell us what happened?" Ron's voice, cracking with fear, sounded from somewhere to Harry's left. Harry wanted to turn his head, to look at Ron, but knew that to move his head would hurt him even more. Talking was painful too, but Harry had to tell them.  
  
"I...went outside, really early...I couldn't sleep...and I just stood there alone, looking at the shops around me...and I felt like I was being watched, you know? And-and I looked around, but I didn't see anyone..." Harry paused to take a long, shuddering breath.  
  
"Take your time, Harry, don't overdo it," Hermione said, trying to sound calm, but Harry detected a break in her voice. It sounded as though she might burst into tears any moment now. With a jolt he realized that, although he couldn't see it, his hand was still drenched in the blood from his face. He made a move as though to get up and clean it off, but Ron had put a hand on Harry's shoulder without Harry noticing-while Hermione was putting the bandage on his wounded face. Ron pressed him back down onto the bed. Harry took another breath, and continued on.  
  
"...so I ignored it...but then I felt it again, and I looked around, and I heard this noise from behind me...like the sound a cloak makes when you walk...a swishing noise...so I went toward the Leaky Cauldron, about to get inside again, when...  
  
"There was this loud swishing noise, right up near my face, like someone was swinging something through the air at me...then there was this pain going down my face, and...and I saw...I saw blood on the street..."  
  
Both of Hermione's hands were trembling, clamped on her mouth. Ron's hand on his shoulder had gone rigid, his grip on Harry extremely tight.  
  
"I tried to run, but I fell, and I heard that same noise again, coming back, so I...I think I tried to kick whatever had done that, and I think I hit it...I don't remember...all I remember is running into the inn and up the stairs, banging on your door, and falling down..." Harry let his head fall onto his chest.  
  
"Oh Harry," Hermione murmured. "How could-how could this have happened? Who did it?"  
  
Ron's hand had left Harry's shoulder, and he was running it through his hair. "Cuts like that just don't appear on someone's face," Ron muttered. "There's got to be a reason."  
  
"There is a reason," Harry mumbled. He was trying not to move his lips too much, because it hurt to open his mouth.  
  
Hermione was clearly stricken by the attack on Harry. "Just when we thought it was safe to go outside, and this happens," she said quietly, her face pinched. "When will it-"  
  
There was a knock on the door, and everyone except Harry jumped. Harry felt too numb (except for the pain from his face, which was now throbbing hard) to really care. A new thought had entered his mind--he just remembered what he had said only last night-"What if they're still out there, waiting to exact their revenge on us?...They could be waiting to--to kill me, because I helped defeat Voldemort!"  
  
Could it be, that whoever it was had been a Death Eater of Voldemort's inner circle, a Death Eater who had not been captured yet, who was still free to do evil magic...?  
  
"Ron!" Harry croaked, filled with sudden realization. Ron, however, was very pale, and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling Harry to be quiet.  
  
Hermione had leaped off the bed and rushed to the door. She cleared her throat so that she sounded like her normal self. "Er...who is it?" she called.  
  
"Hermione?" It was Mrs. Weasley. Hermione cast one fleeting look at Ron, who was still kneeling on the bed beside Harry, and at Harry, with a huge white bandage covering half his face and one of his hands nearly dripping blood.  
  
"I heard you scream, Hermione, and I saw Ron run into your room...are you all right, dear? Where's Harry?"  
  
"Er...um...I don't know, Mrs. Weasley, I think he may be still asleep..."  
  
"No...he can't be...his door was open, and he wasn't in his room...Is Ron in there?"  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley...we were...er...talking. Something important came up..."  
  
"Is there something wrong, Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley sounded worried.  
  
"Well..." Hermione glanced back at Harry and Ron. "Give me a minute, Mrs. Weasley..."  
  
She hurried back to them. "Should I tell her?" she asked urgently. "She-she might know what to do-"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione...what if she panics?" Ron hissed.  
  
"I've got to tell her!" Hermione said. "She needs to know...we can't keep Harry hidden..."  
  
"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley said again. "Is there something wrong? Can I come in?"  
  
Hermione looked quickly at Harry. "I'm going to tell her," she murmured. "All right?" Harry nodded feebly.  
  
She ran, almost flew, back to the door. "You...you might want to come in, Mrs. Weasley, and see for yourself," Hermione said, her voice shaking again. She opened the door.  
  
Mrs. Weasley came in-and stopped short at the sight. Her horrified eyes swept over Hermione, who was cowering slightly by the door, over Ron, who was pale and looked like he had seen a ghost, and finally to Harry. She drew in a gasp as she stared at him--at the stained-red bandage over his cheek, at his hand, stained red with the blood, at his hair matted by fresh blood, and the reddish bloodstains Harry had spilled on the carpet.  
  
"Oh, my..." she put her hands on her face. "Oh, Harry-what happened? Who did this to him?" she cried, rounding on Hermione and Ron. Both of them shrunk back at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.  
  
"What happened?" she shrieked again, almost hysterical. "Oh, Harry...you must be in so much pain..." She rushed over to him and, as gently as possible, lifted the bandage from his face, her eyes widening at the wound. "Who did this to him?" she murmured.  
  
"Harry..." Hermione said softly. "Harry, do you want me to tell her?"  
  
"Yes," Harry managed to say. It was even harder to talk now that Mrs. Weasley was fussing over him.  
  
Hermione and Ron both began to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened while she continued to fuss over him. She insisted that he lay back on the bed, pulled a dark-blue handkerchief out of her pockets, took the water pitcher from the windowsill and poured a bit of water on the handkerchief, and began dabbing at Harry's face. She cleared the sticky, dried blood from beneath Harry's hair and cleaned off the edges of the wound. At the end of Ron and Hermione's retelling of the events, Mrs. Weasley got up, the now red handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand. Her bottom lip was trembling.  
  
"I'll...I'm going to have to get something to clean it out," Mrs. Weasley said, her own voice quivering now. "Harry, you just stay there for a second, I'll heal it up for you in no time..."  
  
She hurried out of the room.  
  
Ron whirled about to look back at Harry. "Harry!" he said, so urgently that Harry raised his hurting head an inch off the pillow in surprise, "Harry-what were you going to say to me?"  
  
"I think I may have an idea...about who did this..." Harry said. "I know who it may have been."  
  
Both Ron and Hermione were shocked into silence. "What?" both of them said in unison.  
  
"Remember what I said last night?"  
  
Ron and Hermione both screwed up their faces, clearly thinking hard. Then, slowly, comprehension dawned on them.  
  
"Do you mean," Hermione whispered, "That--that may have been a Death Eater?"  
  
"It's possible," Harry said.  
  
"No-no, it's not!" Ron said desperately. "Harry, no Death Eater could have done that to you!"  
  
"Yes, they could," Harry said softly. "Maybe it was a Death Eater who was in great favor with Voldemort...the Death Eater probably owned an Invisibility Cloak, like mine, and had a knife...he probably didn't have a wand, but a knife was good enough...and he ran up to me while he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, and tried to kill me, but I took a step back and he could only slash my face a little bit...he was probably about to finish me off when I ran back inside...but he didn't follow me..."  
  
Hermione, looking severely shaken by now, opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Mrs. Weasley returned, bearing a small glass bottle of some purple liquid and her wand.  
  
"I've got to clean it out, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. She sounded a good deal calmer by now. "This is going to hurt a bit, but it should only last for a minute-just tell me when you're ready."  
  
"I'm ready," Harry said through gritted teeth, wary of more pain.  
  
"All right," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hold on, all right? This is going to sting for just a few seconds, then I'll heal you up. Close your eyes tight just in case it spills over."  
  
Harry shut his eyes and felt a drop of something cold fall onto his cut. Mrs. Weasley was right-it began to sting like crazy. Harry stiffened, trying to fight out the pain.  
  
"It'll be all right, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said from above him. "Just a few more seconds, and it'll be all better. It must hurt like the dickens."  
  
"Dickens," Harry hissed through his teeth. He thought he could hear a faint sizzling noise-was the purple liquid burning his flesh away? - but he also heard a faint rustling sound, as though Mrs. Weasley was looking for something on the bed. A moment later he felt the cold tip of Mrs. Weasley's wand gently touch his skin. He heard her mutter something under her breath…and suddenly there was nothing. No pain, or stinging, nothing at all- it felt exactly the same way as his skin had felt before-before he had gotten attacked by…something he didn't see.  
  
"All right, Harry, it should be all healed up." Mrs. Weasley took Harry by the hand and pulled him to a sitting position. Harry swayed, still not used to having all that pain eliminated in such a short time. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, feeling his cheek gingerly. His fingers stuck to his skin a little and he realized, at the same time Mrs. Weasley did, that his hand was still covered in blood. For a while they both just stared at his hand (now a dark red-brown color from the blood). Then Mrs. Weasley said, in a rather flustered voice, "Well, Harry-we'd better get your hand cleaned up."  
  
"Yeah," Harry said.  
  
"It's a good thing that you know how to mend cuts, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione. Harry jumped-he'd forgotten that Ron and Hermione were still there in the room with him.  
  
"Well…now that your cut is all taken care of…"Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes full of concern, "I need to hear what happened from you."  
  
Harry told her the whole long story again, a good deal calmer than he had been the first time he had relayed the events.  
  
"But you don't remember anything?" Mrs. Weasley demanded urgently. "Anything else? Wounds like that just don't magically appear on someone's face, even if they are a wizard."  
  
"Harry…tell her…tell her what you said to us before she came back," Hermione whispered.  
  
Mrs. Weasley wheeled on Ron and Hermione. "What? What did he say to you?"  
  
Ron hesitated. "Well…he thought that…" He glanced quickly at both Hermione and Harry. "Well," he said again, "Remember what Harry said yesterday over lunch?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley's mouth tightened. "About You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Yes," Ron said. "He…he reckons that it might've been a former Death Eater, looking for revenge on Harry, who may have attacked him."  
  
"What? That's crazy!" said Mrs. Weasley, rounding back on Harry. "You can't possibly think that, Harry…wouldn't you have been able to see who had attacked you?"  
  
"That-that's the thing," Ron said hesitantly. "Harry thinks-he's had a lot of experience with this sort of thing-that his attacker may have been wearing an Invisibility Cloak. And Harry did say that he could hear something that sounded a lot like someone walking-wearing a cloak…"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes…now that I think about it, it sounded almost exactly like a person coming very fast toward me. I could-I could even hear the sound-like a knife, swishing through the air-and then it happened…" he touched his face with his other hand, the hand that didn't have blood all over it. He still couldn't believe that Mrs. Weasley had healed that ghastly wound so easily. "But I heard the sounds very clearly."  
  
"Are you sure? Are you sure that it wasn't the wind, or anything else?" Mrs. Weasley asked urgently.  
  
"I'm sure!" Harry said, feeling a bit put out that she hadn't quite believed him. He pushed his hair out of his eyes impatiently and sat up straight. "Look, I know that I heard someone behind me! There was no mistaking it!"  
  
"Harry may be right, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said a bit hesitantly. "Anything's possible in the wizarding world, isn't it?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Maybe you're right, Hermione, but I still don't know…" She looked at Harry with a pained expression on her face. "It just seems that everything happens to you, doesn't it, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked away. For a moment there was uncomfortable silence, hanging thick above the three of them; then, quite suddenly, he stood up.  
  
"I've got to get my hand cleaned off," Harry said, rushing into Hermione's bathroom-trying to outrun the fact that yes, everything did happen to him…things like what had happened to him just an hour ago…  
  
Things happened to him, not to help him, but ultimately, to harm, to kill him. He vowed that he would be more careful from now on-if that would help. 


	5. The Letter

Chapter Five  
  
The Letter  
  
By the time Harry had emerged out of the bathroom, Ron and Mrs. Weasley had gone back to their own rooms and Hermione had changed out of her pajamas and bathrobe.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley said that we had better not tell Ginny about what had happened," Hermione told him as soon as he came out, still shaking his hand dry. "And for very good reason. I think Ginny might become-er-very upset..."  
  
"You're probably right," Harry said. "Good idea."  
  
"Though I'm not sure if she will notice anything or not," Hermione said. "We'd better go down for breakfast, Harry-does your face feel all right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They went down the hallway together, where Ron met them. "Mum is already downstairs," he informed them as they headed down the stairs. "So is Ginny. Did Mum tell you...?"  
  
"Yeah, I heard-Hermione told me," Harry said. "Are you sure that'll work? Ginny isn't exactly a kid anymore...she's bound to notice something..."  
  
Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll just have to be careful," he said firmly, as though that ended the entire matter.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment he saw Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, both standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them. Ginny looked puzzled at why her mother had wanted to wait so patiently for Harry.  
  
"Mum, why don't we go for a table? We might not get to one in time," Ginny said, tugging at her mother's sleeve. "Come on-it's just Harry-"  
  
"Now Ginny, be patient-" Mrs. Weasley said. "Harry!"   
  
Harry tried to look as cheerful as he had been yesterday, to look as though nothing at all strange had happened. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he said, trying to sound happy-but his voice came out a little too flat.  
  
"Did Ron and Hermione tell you?" Mrs. Weasley said in a low voice, out of Ginny's earshot.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good," Mrs. Weasley sighed, looking quite relieved. "So we won't act like anything odd happened, right Harry?"  
  
"Right," Harry muttered.  
  
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ginny. She was looking at Harry and Mrs. Weasley rather curiously. No doubt she was wondering why her mother was whispering to Harry.  
  
"I found us a good table," Mrs. Weasley said, leading them over to one that sat exactly five people. Harry sat down first, followed by Hermione. Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley sat down across from him.  
  
"What are you three up to today?" Mrs. Weasley asked them.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I thought we might walk around a bit," he said. "Go to different shops--see what there is to do--"  
"Where are you and Ginny going to go, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Hermione.  
  
"We're going to go to Madam Malkin's," Mrs. Weasley said, "We need to get Ginny some new robes for school. Listen, I think that if you're going to go out to the shops, it might be best for you not to stay too long...maybe you should just wait for us to come back for lunch..."  
  
"But--" Ron started, but was silenced when he saw that his mother was looking directly at Harry. Ginny seemed even more curious about her mother's behavior now.  
  
"Mum...?" she said hesitantly.  
  
"What, Ginny?"  
  
"Is there something wrong?"  
"No, no--of course not," Mrs. Weasley said, a little too quickly. Harry glanced up at Ginny. She was staring from one to the other, looking completely bewildered. He thought he saw a flicker of hurt in her eyes--she probably knew that they were hiding something from her, and she didn't like it.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, however, didn't seem to notice that Ginny was catching on. Neither, it seemed, did Ron and Hermione. All of them carried on the conversation as they normally would have done, except for Harry. He couldn't help looking at Ginny. She wasn't joining in, other to say "Yes, Mum," or things like that. She mostly talked down towards her plate and kept her eyes on her food.  
  
Finally, Harry felt enough time had passed for him to retreat to his room. "If you don't mind," he said, standing up, "I'm going to go to my room--I think I should check up on Hedwig--"  
  
"All right, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ginny, you'd better go and get our money from our room--we'll be leaving for the shops in about half an hour, so be ready--"  
  
"Yes, Mum," Ginny said, still looking determinedly at the floor. She plodded up the steps, and Harry followed.  
  
He flopped down on the end of his bed as soon as he entered his room, putting his head in his hands. What should he do? Maybe he could write a letter to Sirius Black, his godfather... he imagined what Sirius would say if he found out Harry was attacked by an invisible would-be assassin...but then again, he thought, Sirius might have the same advice Mrs. Weasley had given him: It would probably be best if you stayed inside and didn't draw attention to yourself...whoever it was might be waiting for one more chance to hurt you...  
  
But he couldn't stay inside forever; he had to go out sometime. Even though the attack on him had indeed shaken him up and frightened him, he refused to stay inside the inn all day, cowering like a hunted animal. No, he would wait until it was more crowded, so that the attacker, if still there, would have a harder chance slashing at him; and if he heard the slightest sound of someone running toward him, heard the sharp sound of a knife cutting through the air, he'd run. He'd run straight into the Leaky Cauldron and lock his door behind him.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
He looked up, startled, then relaxed as he saw who was standing there. It was only Ginny, holding her mother's purse. He couldn't read the expression on Ginny's face.  
  
"Oh--Ginny--It's only you." He put his head in his hands again.  
  
"Were you expecting someone else?"  
  
Harry snapped his head up once more. He hadn't expected Ginny to say something like that. He was struck with slight surprise when he saw that Ginny wasn't blushing furiously when he talked to her like she had done before. She looked completely calm.  
  
"No...I just...sorry about that," he stammered. "Er...I was just...thinking about something else, is all."  
  
Ginny didn't answer right away, and for a few moments all they did was stare at each other. Finally, Ginny said, in a voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper, "Something's happened, hasn't it, Harry?"  
  
"How do you know that?" Harry asked, completely surprised now.  
  
"I noticed that Mum kept looking at you funny all through breakfast," Ginny answered. "I noticed Ron and Hermione doing that too."  
  
Harry didn't want to answer her. "Well...I don't know, I didn't notice. I don't think they were acting strangely."  
  
"Oh it's all right," Ginny said in a would-be calm voice, but Harry detected a hint of quiet anger in it. "There's nothing wrong with not telling me, of course...I'm only seventeen, after all, too young to understand anything...I think I'd better leave now, then, since I'm not worth anyone's time..."  
  
She wheeled around and marched out of Harry's line of sight. Harry suddenly knew why she was so upset. Ginny's parents and her brother's friends...all had hidden secrets from her, because they thought her too young to understand "adult" matters. But she had been bound to notice quite a lot, and he supposed this was just one time too many that she had been kept in the dark...  
  
He made up his mind in a split second. Leaping off his bed, he sprinted down the now empty hallway until he rounded a corner and saw Ginny nearing the top of the stairs, ready to go down.  
  
"Ginny--wait up," he called, praying that she wouldn't ignore him.  
  
She stopped, but didn't turn around. Harry went over to stand next to her.  
  
"Ginny, I'm sorry..." he said. "...I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."  
  
Ginny looked quickly up at him, then looked back down at the staircase. Harry took a deep breath.  
  
"If I tell you what happened, Ginny...will you promise me that you won't tell anyone--that you won't tell a soul about what I said?" This surprised Ginny so much she dropped her mother's purse. After stooping down quickly to pick it up, she managed to say, "Er...sure, Harry...I mean...I promise."  
  
"Do you really? Do you swear--"  
  
"Ginny? Is that you?" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated up the stairway. Harry saw the top of her head approaching and quickly scooted against the wall so that she wouldn't see him talking to Ginny--he did not want Mrs. Weasley to know what he was saying to her.  
  
"Yes," Ginny said. "I've--I've got your money--"  
  
"Good, thanks dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "We'll be leaving in ten minutes--"  
  
"O-okay, Mum," Ginny called down hastily, and as soon as Mrs. Weasley was out of sight, she gestured to Harry and he stepped out again.  
  
"I promise, Harry," she said, beaming at him. Harry grinned back.  
  
"Follow me," he said, leading her back down the hallway to the very end, next to the wall. There was absolutely no one there. "Are you sure you want to know?"  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"Very well then..." he took another deep breath. "All right...you remember what I said over lunch yesterday?"  
  
"Yes, about You-Know-Who," Ginny said.  
  
"Well...today, when I went outside, I think...I think I may have been attacked by a Death Eater...a Death Eater who was meaning to kill me."  
  
Ginny put both hands on her mouth. "Oh no, Harry, that couldn't have happened...how were you attacked? Did they put a spell on you or something? You look all right to me..."  
  
"They didn't need to cast a spell on me," Harry said grimly. "Whoever it was must've been wearing an Invisibility Cloak, because I couldn't see them...but I could hear them. Whoever it was had a knife, and I could hear it swishing through the air...and I was cut down the face--from here to here." He pointed from his temple to the corner of his mouth.  
  
Ginny's eyes went wide. "But--but you did get back in time, didn't you? You must've gotten back into the inn, because there's no cut on your face now--you must've healed it up..."  
"I did--well, your mum did. I went to Hermione, and I told her first. Look--" he pointed to the spot outside Hermione's door where he had fallen to his knees. There were still drops of blood there, though they were not that noticeable if you didn't look too hard. Ginny went white when she saw it. "I fell against her door there, and she came out and put a bandage on me. Ron came too--and that made your mum wake up and come to Hermione's room--she heard Hermione scream when she saw me, and had a feeling something wasn't right...I told her what had happened to me, and she used her wand to heal up my face..."  
  
Ginny took a deep, rattling breath. "A Death Eater? Coming back to get you for defeating You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Don't say that it's not possible, Ginny," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "I know what you're going to say, and I've already heard it...your mum, for one thing, doesn't think that it's possible..."  
  
"But--but I think it is!" Ginny hissed. "I've been through things like that, ever since my first year at Hogwarts, remember? Oh Harry--you had better be careful...they could be coming back, just to kill you..."  
  
"I know." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "But I don't know that for sure--look, Ginny, just promise you won't tell anyone. I'm going to stay in my room today, just to be safe--but please, don't get too worried, I've been through a lot of near-death experiences. And don't act strange with your mum today. If she finds out I told you what happened, she's going to be hysterical--she didn't want me to upset you."  
  
"Well...it wasn't good news, that...but Harry, thanks for telling me anyway. It didn't worry me that much...anyway..." she was blushing again. "Look, thanks for telling me about that, glad to know someone doesn't think I'm just a kid anymore."  
  
"You're not," Harry said. "Don't worry."  
  
"I promise I won't tell anyone," Ginny said. "I swear my life on it."  
  
"All the same," said Harry, grinning now, "We're going to have to shake on it, to be absolutely sure."  
  
Ginny grinned too, and accepted Harry's hand. Harry felt relieved that he had told her--he wasn't sure how he would have felt if he had just let her be kept in the dark.  
  
"Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley called again, making both Harry and Ginny jump. They glanced at each other.  
  
"Ginny--what's taking you so long? We've got to get going now!" Mrs. Weasley called.  
  
"Yes, Mum...coming, just a second!" Ginny said back. She turned to Harry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I do have to go--thanks for telling me--I won't tell anyone else--do be careful, Harry, please--I have to go!" She shot Harry one last grateful smile before she bolted down the stairs toward her mother, looking considerably more cheerful than she had been after breakfast. Harry fought a grin when he heard Mrs. Weasley say to Ginny, "Finally, Ginny, what took you so long? ...and why are you blushing like that?"  
  
"It's probably just because I ran down the stairs, Mum," Harry heard Ginny say hastily, then there was the snap of the door closing behind them.  
  
Still smiling, Harry retreated back to his bedroom, where he flopped face-down onto his bed. For a few moments he just lay there, his face pressed into the bedsheets and his mind empty, when he thought he heard something tapping against his window.  
  
Tap. Tap.   
  
He raised his head a couple of inches and saw what looked like a tawny brown owl, clacking its claw against his window. There was a note attached to its leg.  
  
"Odd," said Harry, crossing over to the window. "Now who would send me a letter?"  
  
He hesitated a moment upon reaching the window--was it safe even to put his hand outside the window? What if--  
  
The owl hooted loudly, and Harry decided that maybe he was being too paranoid. He opened the window, and snatched the owl inside very quickly. He examined the letter attached to the owl's leg.  
  
"Odd," Harry said again. There was no real address on it, although it did have a stamp on it that said HOGSMEADE POST OFFICE. He was definitely feeling bewildered now--who would send him a letter from the Post Office?  
  
Slowly, as though the letter contained a bomb, Harry untied the letter and opened it. The note inside was on thick parchment paper, and the handwriting wasn't one he recognized. He had a strange feeling that he did not want to read what was written on it.  
  
He threw the letter down on his bedspread and instead picked the owl up again. He went back to the window and released it into the air, then went back to his bed, sitting on the end of it, staring at the letter.  
  
Should he open it? It was very suspicious--but then again, he did want to know what was written on it, and who had sent such a letter to him.  
  
Harry reached cautiously toward the letter and unfolded it once more, his fingers trembling slightly. The handwriting was very fancy, in ornate script that he did not recognize. The message written on it was very short, and there was no signature.  
  
He read the letter once, his eyes widening. He read it over and over, his mind blank with shock. After reading it for the fourth time, he threw the letter away again, letting it hit the wall and slide to the floor.  
  
You escaped this time, Harry Potter, but you will not be so lucky next time. I'm watching you, and I'm waiting for the next time to strike. Heed my words, Harry Potter--  
  
YOU THOUGHT THAT VOLDEMORT WAS DEAD. HE LIVES ON. THE DEATH EATERS WILL RISE AGAIN. THE DARK ORDER SHALL PREVAIL. YOUR ATTEMPTS TO STOP US WERE FUTILE. THE RISE OF THE DARK ARTS WILL ALWAYS CONTINUE--BUT YOU, HARRY POTTER, WILL NOT. I SHALL SEE TO IT.  
  
That did it. He bolted out of his room, pounding his way down the stairs. Ron and Hermione were at the bottom, looking up at him. Both of them had bewildered expressions on their faces.  
  
"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Her eyes widened at the look on Harry's face. "Oh no--what happened? Did something else happen to you?"  
  
Ron's face turned white. "Harry--what's the matter--quick--" He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Did you see anyone strange? I've got my wand here--we can confront them--"  
  
"I--I just got a--a letter," Harry managed to get out. "And it said that--that it--" He swallowed. "I think it was from the person who attacked me."  
"WHAT?" Both Ron and Hermione gasped.  
  
"Come upstairs--I'll show you--"  
He thundered back up the stairs, Ron and Hermione at his heels, and plunged back into his room. "Here," he croaked, diving for the letter, which was still lying on the floor like some wounded bird, "This--that's the letter. Read it."  
  
Ron snatched the letter out of Harry's trembling hand and read through it quickly, his face turning even paler. Throwing a frightened glance at Hermione, he handed it to her to read as well. Harry saw her lips move as she read the letter, saw her eyes widen as she formed the word Voldemort.  
  
"Who would--who would send such a thing to you?" she choked out, dropping the letter. It fluttered back down to the floor. "How--how did they--"  
  
"It was a Death Eater," Harry whispered, his face in his hands again. "I know it for sure this time. He--he was the one who attacked me--he wanted to kill me--he's going to try again--he's going to kill me."  
  
Hermione shook her head violently, blinking back tears. "No, Harry--you musn't--don't talk that way--please--"  
  
Ron's fingers gripped his wand so tightly that it looked as though his wand might snap under the pressure of his fingers. "Harry," he said slowly, "I don't think you should go out of this inn any more. Not until--"  
  
"You don't need to tell me twice," Harry said, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I knew that as soon as I read that letter."  
  
"We had better tell Mum about this," Ron continued. "And Dad. Maybe he can alert the Ministry--"  
  
"No!" Harry said, sitting up straight. "We can't! It'll just create more of a stir--Harry Potter, attacked by a renegade Death Eater! That could put me in more danger! What if the Death Eater finds out that the Ministry knows? He might want to kill me even sooner than he had done before! And what--well, if the Ministry decides to track him down, what will we be able to do? He's got an Invisibility Cloak, Ron! What're we going to do, run around until we bump into something solid that we can't see? It's nearly impossible to find him!"  
  
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Calm down!"  
  
"Ron, we can't tell anyone!" Harry said. "No one, not even your mum. We have to keep this quiet--"  
  
"And what?" Ron demanded, "Deal with it ourselves?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe!" Harry was yelling now, standing up. "If we tell someone else this'll just lead to more trouble. I can't have that. That Death Eater or whoever he was, he's coming back! He wants me; he wants to kill me! And only me! He doesn't care about anyone else--he probably wants to torture me too, because I brought down Voldemort! He wants me to feel the pain and despair he felt when his master was defeated and the Death Eaters were dispersed--"  
  
At this point, Hermione, who had been driven to her breaking point by all the yelling, broke down in tears. Harry stopped shouting at Ron, but was still breathing rather heavily, his face hot. Ron collapsed onto the bed, his face hidden by his hands.  
  
"All right, Harry, all right," he managed to say. "I won't tell anyone."  
  
Harry nodded, then looked over at Hermione, who was still sobbing. "Hermione--" he started, forgetting for the moment about his own troubles and crossing over to where she stood, "It's all right--it'll be fine--"  
  
Hermione only nodded, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "But--but what if that Death Eater comes back? What can we do?"  
  
Harry thought a moment. "First," he said, "I think we should still get in contact with the Ministry--"  
  
Ron looked staggered at Harry's words. "But...but you just said that we shouldn't tell anyone else!"  
  
"I know that," Harry said, waving his hand impatiently, "But we won't tell them. We're just going to ask about the Death Eaters they did apprehend. I know quite a few of those Death Eater's names, too--maybe we can piece together the most likely Death Eater that attacked me and sent me that letter. Then we can come up with--with some sort of plan..."  
  
"Right," Hermione said, suddenly buisnesslike. "I'm going to borrow a piece of parchment--"  
Wordlessly, Ron went over to the desk in the corner of Harry's room and took out the least wrinkled sheet of parchment he could find, plus a quill and a bottle of ink. Hermione loaded up the quill and poised it over the paper.  
  
"Tell me the names of the Death Eaters you know, Harry."  
  
"There was Rosier," Harry said, ticking it all off on his fingers. "Wilkes--Macnair--Avery--Nott--"  
Hermione nodded, scribbling furiously.  
  
"Crabbe...Goyle..." Harry screwed up his face, thinking that he forgot someone, but couldn't quite recall who.  
  
"Malfoy," Ron said finally, after a few seconds of silence. "Lucius Malfoy."  
  
Both Harry and Hermione looked up. "Yes..." Harry said slowly. "Add that to the list. Anyway...I'm not sure, I know there were thirteen when I last saw them."  
  
"Pettigrew?" Hermione said hesitantly.  
  
"Pettigrew was caught," Harry said. "I know that for sure." He turned to Ron. "I think you'd better be the one to write a letter to the Ministry and ask about the Death Eaters that were caught."  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"Because your dad's in the Ministry," Hermione said, catching on. "It won't look too suspicious, will it?"  
  
"I suppose not," Ron said, beginning to pace the room. He went around in five full circles before he said, "So how should I phrase it?"  
"I don't know," Harry said thoughtfully. "Act normal...say that it's been some time since You-Know-Who was first defeated, and say that you've heard a lot of talk in the Leaky Cauldron about the missing Death Eaters...say that you're starting to get worried yourself and that you just want to be sure."  
  
"I don't know if that'll work, but I'll try," Ron said. The rug on which he was pacing on began to show a funny circular imprint from all his pacing. He dove across the room and snatched another piece of parchment out of Harry's desk. Hermione handed him the quill and the remains of Harry's inkbottle.  
  
"All I know is how to start the letter," Ron said. " `Dear Dad. ' "  
  
Harry managed a laugh. "You do that," he told Ron. "Maybe you could ask him if he could contact someone at the Daily Prophet... ask if he can get a hold of the newspaper that came out right after Voldemort was defeated. That should tell us just how many Death Eaters they had already caught."  
  
"I've got an idea!" Ron said, starting to scribble furiously. "I'll ask Dad if he can get a hold of any Daily Prophet copies that told of any apprehended Death Eaters...they must've caught some more of them a while back..."  
  
Ron continued writing feverishly. Hermione looked over his shoulder and read what he had written. After about ten minutes Ron blew on the parchment to make the ink dry faster and flung the letter at Harry.  
  
"Read it and make sure it sounds all right."  
  
Dear Dad,  
  
How are you? Hope everything is going all right at home.  
  
I'd wondering if you could do my friends and I a favor. You see, Harry, Hermione, and I have been discussing the downfall of You-Know-Who, and talk started on the subject of the Death Eaters who are still out there. I want to ask you this: Could you please get in contact with one of your friends at the Daily Prophet and please send any newspaper clippings about apprehended Death Eaters to me? It would be a great help.  
  
Thanks anyway, Dad. Don't work too hard, all right? Give my best to Fred, George, Percy and all the rest at home.  
  
Ron  
  
P. S. Don't worry about Mum and Ginny--they're having a great time with us.  
  
"Does that look all right?" Ron asked anxiously.  
  
"It sounds great," Harry said. "We'll send this off with Hedwig."  
  
"I hope it won't make him get suspicious," Ron said, getting up and beginning to pace around and around the room again. "He might tell Mum, and that'll cause a whole heap of trouble."  
  
"That's the least of our worries," Hermione said, running an anxious hand through her hair. "What about Harry? He can't just stay in his room forever--he's got to get out of it some time."  
  
"I know," Harry said, "but if I go out I won't be safe."  
  
"Maybe if you wore your Invisibility Cloak?" Ron suggested.  
  
"That won't work," Hermione sighed. "What if he bumps into someone? The cloak doesn't stop him from being solid."  
  
"But I don't think I have another choice," Harry said. "That might be the only way I can go out. But then again, how am I going to be able to get into the shops and buy something? I'm betting the people in the shops would be pretty spooked if they saw a couple of gold coins floating in the air."  
  
"I don't know," Ron muttered, flopping back down on the bed and putting his head in his hands. "Maybe...maybe Harry should just be extra careful."  
  
"That's my only choice, I guess," Harry said. "I'll be careful."  
  
Hermione nodded wordlessly. "Harry..." she said at last. "If you hear or see anything strange, just run back to the inn, and tell us...and maybe we can figure it out."  
  
"I hope so," Harry muttered. "If I can get back before that Death Eater tries to kill me first." 


	6. The Eye Of Truth

Chapter Six  
  
The Eye Of Truth  
  
Harry found himself unusually alert during the day. After Ron and Hermione left his room, he jumped up and took to retracing Ron's steps--round and round his room. He fell back onto his bed after ten minutes and just lay there, feeling his heart thumping hard and fast against his ribs. He took out a book from his trunk and tried to read, but soon found that he couldn't. He read the same page of his book five times and forgot all of it by the time he turned the page. He snapped the book shut and threw it back into his trunk.  
  
He also found that his ears were straining for sound more than they usually did, and that they seemed to pick up every sigh of the summer wind, every rustle of the trees outside. He jumped at small noises, like the sound of the room settling, the creak of a door as some other guest left his room.  
  
This couldn't do. Harry groaned, finally, and looked at his watch. It was only ten-o'-clock in the morning. He leaped up and paced the room seven times, his eyes on the floor, and tried to tidy up his room. He picked up a piece of parchment that had become dislodged and put it back on his desk. After five minutes of staring at it, he picked it up again and folded it, then put it in a drawer of his desk.  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud," he said under his breath. He had to go out. There was nothing else for it.  
  
He peeked outside his door. Ron and Hermione had probably retreated back into their own rooms, for there was no sign of them anywhere in the hallway. Good.  
  
He ran back to his wardrobe and pulled out a dark-green traveling cloak that he had bought for himself. Slinging it around his shoulders, he rummaged in his trunk and brought out his money-bag, which still had quite a few Galleons clinking in the bottom of it. Not that Harry intended to spend it--but he never knew, it might come in handy.  
  
With a last look outside his door to check that Ron and Hermione nor Mrs. Weasley were aware of his departure, he set out down the stairs, through the parlor, and out into Diagon Alley.  
  
As soon as he went out into the bright sunlight, he pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover his face. The least he wanted was to be attacked by a Death Eater again.  
  
He slipped quickly into the usual shopping crowd and blended in with the chattering people. As he walked he thought about where he should go. After about twenty minutes of wandering about, Harry decided to duck into a nearby wizarding equipment shop.  
  
As he made his way inside into the shop, he removed his hood and let the cool air inside the shop fan his face. There was no one else in there but him and someone who Harry thought must be the manager of the shop. The manager leaned comfortably on his desk and squinted curiously at Harry.  
  
"Cold, are you?" said the manager, grinning.  
  
"Huh?" Harry said.  
  
"You've got a cloak on," the manager said, pointing at Harry. "Aren't you sweating like the devil in there?"  
  
"I'm used to it," Harry replied, turning away to glance at a rack of some objects he had never seen before.  
  
The rack contained what looked like tiny silver magnifying glasses, only about an inch long and wide. They weren't all that remarkable except for one fact--the lens of the magnifying glasses were not clear as usual, but a deep, transculent black. There was a sort of red line in the middle of the lens, making the magnifying-glass look as though it were a cat's eye.  
  
Intrigued, Harry picked up one of the magnifying glasses and held it in his palm. He saw that the tiny magnifying lens was attached to a very fine, very bright silver chain. As he turned the lens this way and that in the dim light of the shop, the "eye" in the lens seemed to wink and glimmer at him.  
  
"Ah, so you're interested in that Eye of Truth, are you?"  
  
Harry jumped--the manager had appeared quite suddenly at his shoulder, and was nodding gravely at Harry.  
  
"I--I didn't know it was called that, sir," Harry answered.  
  
The manager nodded his head a bit faster. "Not many people do. That lens you're holding is called the Eye of Truth. It's a very new and useful magical item. It was only invented about a year ago."  
  
"What does it do?" Harry asked, tilting his hand to watch the effects of light on the lens.  
  
"It helps you to see what is real," the manager said, rather cryptically. "In this world there are many who use stealth and cunning to their advantage. I daresay, sir, that you know a bit about invisibility, and about concealment?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"The Eye of Truth," the manager continued, though quite cheerfully, "Shows all that is meant to be invisible and concealed. Now, when the Eye of Truth is placed on a person--it doesn't matter where--that person could immediately see things such as people, swathed in Invisibility Cloaks, invisible ink, all of it. And for the part about concealment...while the Eye of Truth is in use, the user will know which people are hiding an enormous secret--whether good or bad, whether deadly, it cannot tell you, but it will tell you who is hiding an important secret. Helps you see the dark secrets no one else can see--but you, if you've got the Eye of Truth with you. And that might tell you more than you'll ever find out just on your own."  
  
Harry swallowed involuntarily. The manager's words sent shivers through his body for some reason, though he couldn't tell why.  
  
"Now--" cried the manager, clapping his hands together quite loudly and making Harry jump again, "--would you like to try this Eye of Truth out?"  
"W-what?" Harry said. "Now?"  
  
"There's no time like the present!" the manager replied, grinning at him. "Here--let's try you out--put it on, let's see it! Hang it round your neck!"  
  
Feeling as though a better reward would be to just back out of the store and leave the Eye of Truth behind, Harry reluctantly placed the silver chain about his neck. The manager of the store stayed still for a moment, beaming at him. Harry looked to the left, right, behind him, and back to the front. There was no apparent change in the setting. Maybe the Eye of Truth was malfunctioning.  
  
"Well?" asked the manager. "See anything new?"  
  
"Er--no," Harry admitted.  
  
"Well, that's because there's nothing invisible in this store yet," the manager said. "But wait here, and I'll show you what the Eye can do. Take it off for a bit."  
  
Shrugging to himself, Harry slipped the chain from his neck. The manager scurried around the shop, muttering, until at last he emerged with a piece of parchment and a bottle of completely clear liquid.  
  
"Now look here," the manager said, pulling out his quill from his robes with a flourish. He dipped the quill into the bottle of liquid, and began to write on the parchment. Harry, however, could see nothing for now.  
  
"Can you see anything I've written?" the manager asked.  
  
"No," Harry said.  
  
"Put on the Eye of Truth and look again," the manager said with a wink. "Go on!"  
  
Harry picked up the Eye of Truth again and slipped it back on his neck. He looked back at the parchment. To his amazement there were words written on it, words he had not seen before he had put the Eye around his neck. Can you read this? the paper said.  
  
"There's something written on the paper!" Harry said excitedly.  
  
"Yes, yes, you see?" said the manager, nearly as excited as Harry was. "And look here--"  
  
The manager disappeared again behind the counter. Harry waited, and the manager popped back up, holding what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. He crossed over to Harry, beaming.  
  
"This is an Invisibility Cloak," the manager said, flourishing the cloak in front of Harry's face. Harry tried to look as though this information was new to him. "Take off the Eye while I put it on, and wait for about ten seconds. Put the Eye back on and see if you can find me."  
  
Harry nodded and took off the chain. The manager swung the cloak around his shoulders and disappeared. Harry waited, counting silently to ten, and finally put the chain back on his neck. The manager of the store was back behind the counter again, sitting quite comfortably.  
  
"I can see you!" Harry cried. "I can really see you!"  
  
The manager leaped up, taking the cloak off; his grin was wide. "You see what the Eye of Truth can do? You see?"  
"Wow," Harry breathed, taking the Eye of Truth off his neck and staring once more at its lens. "How much is one of these?"  
  
"Only three Galleons," the manager said. "A real bargain, by my standards, but as you were more enthusiastic than anyone else I've seen looking at the Eye of Truth, I guess I can let you have it cheap..."  
  
"This is approved by the Ministry, isn't it?" Harry asked. "I mean, it isn't a Dark Arts item, is it?"  
  
"Oh no, no," the manager said, laughing. "Trust people to be a bit more wary of strange objects. I must admit that when a shipment of these came in, I had my doubts--but I have had much success with them. Did you know, my boy, that many a thief in an Invisibility Cloak have tried to sneak into my store for years, and it was only after I got these that I was able to stop them." He chuckled. "It's also lucky I stock Invisibility Cloaks as well--they allowed me to keep watch, unseen, through the nights. Hey, boy, how would you like to buy an Invisibility Cloak to go along with it? They're twenty Galleons and three Sickles each! A bargain!"  
  
"No thanks," Harry said, and the manager looked slightly downcast.  
  
"Ah well," the man sighed, and he took the gold Harry gave him and put the Eye of Truth in a small bag for Harry to take. "I guess I'm asking too much. I haven't had that many customers ever since Dervish and Banges opened down the way. I suppose it might be time to retire...well, here you are, lad."  
  
"Um...I just have a question," Harry said. "If I choose not to have it out in the open, and I tuck it underneath my robes or something, will it still...?"  
"Will it still work?" finished the manager, smiling kindly, and Harry nodded.  
  
"Certainly, dear boy, it will still work. It would be better to keep it underneath your robes too, as too much damage to it might break the Eye of Truth's lens, and then it will be useless...but remember...it must be used with caution, as all magical things must be."  
This was no news to Harry.  
  
"All right," Harry said. "Thanks."  
  
The manager of the store smiled and waved him out of the shop, and Harry hurried out, eager to try out his purchase.  
  
Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron parlor to find Ron and Hermione sitting there, their faces white.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione squeaked. "Where were you? Ron and I--we were worried sick--we were afraid someone had kidnapped you or something!"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, beginning to look more angry than anxious. "What were you thinking, going off by yourself like that?"  
"Listen," Harry said, "I'm sorry. But I just couldn't stay in my room. I had to get out."  
  
"Then why couldn't you go out somewhere where we could keep track of you? Like here, in the parlor?" Hermione said indignantly.  
  
Harry didn't answer. The foolishness of his decision to go outside suddenly dawned on him. Why hadn't he thought of that before...?  
  
"For your sake," Ron said, choosing to ignore Harry's guilty expression, "I'm not going to tell Mum. But if you pull something like that again, Harry...you--you know what I'll do."  
  
"I'm sorry you had to worry," Harry said quietly. "Really, I am. I didn't mean to make you two so scared."  
  
Hermione began to look a bit more forgiving. "All right, Harry...just promise that you won't-- " Suddenly her eyes went wide. "What is that?"  
"Huh? What?" Ron looked quickly at Hermione.  
  
"What did you buy, Harry?" Hermione demanded, pointing at the bag still clutched in Harry's hand. "You bought something in Diagon Alley, didn't you?"  
  
"It's nothing," Harry lied, swiftly tucking the bag away in his pocket. "Really, it's not..." He suddenly remembered what he had come back here to do--to test the Eye of Truth. He got up so quickly that Ron and Hermione stared. "Um...I have to go upstairs now...something I need to do..."  
  
Quick as a flash, before either Ron or Hermione could say another word, he bolted his way upstairs and into his room.  
  
Back in his room, Harry threw nearly all his books out of his trunk, flinging his Sneakoscope and some old clothes in different directions, until he found his silvery Invisibility Cloak. He slipped it around his shoulders and looked in the mirror.  
  
Perfect. He could see nothing, nothing except the rest of the room around him--but no Harry.  
  
He dived for the small box that held his Eye of Truth and fastened it around his neck, and jumped.  
  
There he was, reflected in the mirror, looking quite excited. He looked exactly as he would have looked had he not have been wearing his Invisibility Cloak, only this time he had what looked like a silver shroud around his shoulders and head. It was bright, silvery white, yet not quite Invisible.  
  
Harry grinned. Slowly, he took the cloak from around his shoulders and tucked the Eye of Truth down the collar of his shirt. Amazed, he stood there in front of the mirror for a few more minutes, simply staring at his reflection, going over all the possibilities in his mind of the Eye of Truth's power...  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry started and whipped around to see who had called his name. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw a familiar red-headed girl peering curiously around his doorframe. "Oh--Ginny--it's only you."  
  
"We just came back," Ginny said, blushing once more. "Mum bought you...I mean, she bought everyone...uh...this is for you." She held out a large ice-cream cone.  
  
"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said, relieved that she hadn't come to deliver bad news. He accepted the ice cream and nodded his thanks.  
  
"How come you're not having lunch with Ron and Hermione?" Ginny inquired.  
  
"I wasn't hungry," Harry lied quickly. "Is it lunchtime already?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny said. "Mum was waiting for you to come down."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. "Well...tell her I'll go down later. I'm a bit busy right now."  
  
"All right," Ginny said. "I'll tell her. See you..."  
  
And she left.  
  
Harry blew out a breath. It was lucky that it was only Ginny who had come to see him...and that she hadn't seen what he had been doing only a second before she poked her head in through the door. No one but Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron, and a select few others even knew about his Invisibility Cloak, and he wanted to keep it that way.  
  
Something cold ran down Harry's arm, and he jumped, slipping slightly on a stray book on the floor, before he realized that it was only his ice cream. He licked the melted strawberry off of his arm and sighed. He supposed he had better get down to lunch, before Mrs. Weasley got worried. He hated the fact that he had to go back down for lunch, but he hated the fact that Ron might sell him out to Mrs. Weasley if he didn't even more. 


	7. Ginny's Promise

Chapter Seven  
  
Ginny's Promise  
  
A week passed since the attack on Harry. While Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and most definitely Harry had not forgotten about it, slowly they each began to relax. Ginny didn't ask anything more about the attack from Harry and went back to doing her last-minute summer homework. Hermione bought a book, The Ministry of Magic: A Study of the Ministry's Roles and Beginnings, and Ron visited Quality Quidditch Supplies quite a lot. Harry spent most of his time shut in his room, reading a few books.  
  
Ron received a letter back from Mr. Weasley on Thursday. Harry had forgotten about the letter they had written to him, and jumped when he heard a vehement exclamation from Ron, who had been having tea all the way downstairs.  
  
"Harry!" he bellowed, thundering up the stairs. Startled, Harry leaped up and ran to the door just in time to see Ron appear on the landing, a letter clutched in his hand. He was grinning.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked. "What's got you all excited?"  
  
Panting, Ron dragged Harry into his own room, then shoved the letter in Harry's face.  
  
"My dad-- " he gasped, "Just sent me-- "  
  
Intrigued, Harry took the letter from Ron and read it hastily.  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
I received your letter. I'll admit it does sound fishy that people are discussing it there, but that's not entirely unexpected--I've heard a lot from my Ministry co-workers as well.  
  
Your mother and I have been keeping a few Daily Prophets about Voldemort's downfall and such since he disappeared. I fortunately managed to find one clipping about the apprehended Death Eaters, just like you asked. It's enclosed in this letter. I think you'll find everything you need in it.  
  
I hope you're doing all right there. Is Harry with you too? Tell him to drop me a line sometime soon--I've recently bought a telephone (don't tell your mother) but I can't get it to work. What do the little numbers mean? I can't seem to figure it out.  
  
Tell Ginny good luck on her last year at Hogwarts! Tell your mother to come home soon.  
  
Your father  
  
Arthur Weasley  
  
"Look!" Ron said, and he shook the envelope violently. Out fluttered a cutting from the Daily Prophet, dated over three months before. Harry seized the article from the floor and skimmed over it swiftly.  
  
DEATH EATERS FOUND!  
  
You-Know-Who is gone at last! There is good news from the Ministry that they have apprehended quite a few of You-Know-Who's loyal supporters, more commonly known as Death Eaters.  
  
Many Death Eaters were found earlier this afternoon at an undisclosed location and were taken in by Ministry of Magic officials for questioning and evidence. However, contacts at the Ministry have reported that many Death Eaters have escaped the clutches of the Ministry. Their names are listed below:  
  
Following that was a list of some Death Eaters that Harry did not recognize and some he did. As a follow-up to the story, there were a number of pictures as well, many of them with the suspected Death Eaters looking extremely shifty. Four names jumped out at him particularly.  
  
Lucius Malfoy  
  
The Lestranges  
  
Walden Macnair  
  
"Lucius Malfoy!" Ron snarled. "They hadn't caught him yet! And he's got fine reason to try and attack you!"  
  
"Come off it," Harry said, though he was still shaken up by the thought of so many Death Eaters still on the run. "We can't be sure that he's still...you know...I mean, there are loads of other Death Eaters that are still out there. I know for a fact how much they hate me. Lucius Malfoy is only one out of seven."  
  
"But--but-- " Ron seemed to be struggling for another reason to make Lucius Malfoy the most obvious suspect. "His son is Draco Malfoy! He's got a lot more reason to kill you than any of the others have! Think of it, Harry--first you made him lose his house-elf, and then his job as a school governor! You beat Draco so many times at Quidditch, humiliated his family, and everything else--then, to cap it all off, you helped defeat his master! You-Know-Who! Come on! It's totally obvious that he was the one who attacked you a week ago!"  
  
"Come off it," Harry said again. "Macnair's got very good reason to kill me too--we helped Buckbeak escape, remember, in our third year? And the Lestranges--I've heard of them--I remember that they once said that they would pledge their allegiance to the Dark Lord, that they would never lose faith in him. They were two of his most faithful servants. They've got a good excuse to do away with me too."  
  
"Well," Ron said finally, "Suit yourself. I stand by my opinion."  
  
"I'm sure you do."  
  
"But we've got to be more careful," Ron whispered. "There are seven Death Eaters--seven out of thirteen--still hanging around, waiting for the chance to come and stab you or something as soon as they get the chance. You'd do well to watch your step."  
  
"I'll say," Harry murmured.  
  
Ron had apparently relayed the story of the Death Eaters to Hermione as soon as he had left Harry's bedroom, for after dinner that evening Hermione dragged him off to her bedroom and gave Harry pretty much the same warning that Ron had given him earlier.  
  
"Don't go looking for trouble, Harry," she said, very seriously.  
  
"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said irritably. "I told you before, trouble usually finds me."  
  
"All the same," Hermione said, looking very worried now, "I would be careful if I were you."  
  
"I know," Harry said.  
  
A little while later, he left Hermione's room, feeling both exasperated and nervous. It wasn't entirely unexpected that Hermione had said something like that to him--after all, with him being Harry Potter and all, people seemed to get the impression that he liked attracting harm and danger to himself. The trouble was, he didn't like it, and he couldn't help it.  
  
As he got into his bed that night, he felt a lurking sense of dread and unease that he couldn't explain. Ron's voice, Hermione's warnings, Mrs. Weasley's fussing--all seemed to swim around and around in his head, circling, repeating, their voices unclear, fuzzy, distorted like a badly tuned radio.  
  
"Don't go looking for trouble, Harry...he's got good reason to kill you...would you like to try the Eye of Truth out?...they could be coming back to kill you...who did this to him?"  
  
Harry drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. Sometimes he woke up, without really knowing that he was awake; sometimes he woke up not knowing where he was or what he was doing; once or twice he awoke thinking vaguely that he had heard sounds of someone breaking the door to his room open, coming in, wanting to stab him again...  
  
At a quarter to four in the morning Harry slipped soundlessly out of bed, laying his hot forehead against the cold glass of his window. It was raining again. The room felt chilly, damp, and mildewed as the smell of the rain drifted in through small cracks in the windows. He watched as a half-asleep Hedwig ruffled her feathers up as protection against the cold.  
  
At five-thirty he pulled on a baggy, old plaid shirt and jeans that had used to belong to his cousin Dudley. He was far too tired to care that he was wearing Dursley clothes again. Instead, he padded his way out of his still-dark room, pausing in the corridor outside.  
  
A faint scratching noise was coming from a room down the hall. Cold with dread, Harry followed the sound, only to stop at the door to what he knew was Ginny's bedroom. Wondering what on earth she was doing at five-thirty in the morning, he knocked quietly on her door.  
  
"Who is it?" he heard her call after a brief minute of startled silence.  
  
"It's only me," Harry said. "It's Harry. Can I--can I come in?"  
  
"Oh--Harry--" There was a clunk, as though Ginny had dropped a book on the floor, and then there was silence again. "Well--sure, I guess."  
  
Harry opened the door carefully, so as not to create too much noise, and saw Ginny, also fully dressed, sitting at her desk with a quill pen in her hand and a four-foot-long roll of parchment. Ginny had evidently been measuring the length of her writing.  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"Homework," Ginny said somewhat sheepishly. "I've put it off until the last minute. This is my last bit, though...it's an essay for History of Magic. I've still got a foot more to write about."  
  
"Oh." Harry said. "But why are you up so early? You've still got a week until you leave for Hogwarts."  
  
"I didn't want Mum to see me," Ginny said, blushing and turning back to her homework. "I told her I've already completed all my stuff..."  
  
"Oh," Harry said again.  
  
"Why are you up so early?" Ginny inquired, scribbling furiously onto the parchment.  
  
"Couldn't sleep."  
  
Ginny nodded. "It's raining harder than ever outside."  
  
"It's not that," Harry said slowly.  
  
Ginny looked up at him, startled. "Why? What's wrong?"  
  
Harry sat down on the end of Ginny's bed, putting his chin in one of his hands. After a moment he told her all about the letter Ron had written to Mr. Weasley and the letter that had been sent back, complete with the story of the newspaper clipping and the names of the missing Death Eaters.  
  
"The Ministry's only caught six out of thirteen Death Eaters," Harry said miserably. "Ron is convinced that Lucius Malfoy is the one who attacked me last week. Hermione--she's just worried for my safety. If your mum finds out about this, Ginny, she'll be in floods. I just can't understand why I seem to attract so much trouble. Is it really because I'm Harry Potter? The `boy who lived?' "  
  
"You shouldn't talk that way, Harry," Ginny said desperately. "Maybe--maybe--it's not your fault. You mustn't think so. It's the fault of all those--those nutters--those lunatics out there who blame you for everything. You've done nothing wrong, Harry."  
  
"I hope not," Harry muttered. "Look, Ginny, don't tell your mum about this either."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"There's something else," Harry said suddenly. "Something I haven't told Ron or Hermione."  
  
"What?" Ginny said, surprised.  
  
"I--I have this feeling--I think--I know--something terrible's going to happen to me. I just know it. It's going to happen soon. Maybe I'll get attacked again. Or worse."  
  
"Oh, Harry-- "  
  
Harry stood up and began to pace around and around Ginny's room, wearing a trail in her carpet.  
  
"Maybe whoever it was will come back for me and kill me, then kill everyone else...I wouldn't put it past one of Voldemort's Death Eaters to do that..."  
  
Ginny simply sat there, too shocked to say anything. After a few moments of Harry circling the room and muttering, he turned back to her.  
  
"Ginny," he said, and there was an altogether urgent tone in his voice now, "Promise me that you won't tell anyone what I just told you. I can feel it--I'm going to get in a lot of trouble very soon. If Ron or Hermione try to find out what I told you and went after me or something, we could all get hurt or killed. I know it. They mustn't know. All right, Ginny? They can't know about this."  
  
For a while Ginny didn't say anything. "All--all right, Harry," she said finally. "But--but if things get too out of hand--I'll have to tell them, you know?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "But only then. Only then."  
  
Ginny nodded, courage growing in her face. "But until then--"  
  
"You'll keep your word," Harry finished.  
  
Ginny gave Harry a weak smile. "I--I will..."  
  
Suddenly a door slammed right outside, in the hallway. Harry and Ginny both jumped.  
  
"Harry, you'll need to get out of here," Ginny hissed urgently. "If Mum finds out I haven't finished my homework and that I was talking to you instead, I'm a goner."  
  
"Right," Harry said, feeling a bit better now that Ginny had promised. "See you at breakfast..."  
  
Slowly, he crept out of Ginny's room and shut the door behind him. As he left he heard Ginny's quill scratch across the parchment again. 


	8. The Disappearance

Chapter Eight  
  
The Disappearance  
  
Harry worried nearly all of that day later, unable to shake off a feeling he couldn't quite explain. He kept his Eye of Truth tucked beneath his robes and his wand in his pocket at all times and jumped at small noises. Whenever he went downstairs, he looked around him frantically at the sound of a new voice.  
  
Hermione was quickest to notice this. At dinner that evening he started to jump up three times in quick succession. Two out of the three times Hermione had to stop him from standing up and running back to his room by grabbing him swiftly by the arm.  
  
Ron seemed a bit edgy too, as he kept shooting anxious sorts of glances in Harry's direction; it was as though he expected a bloody cut to appear suddenly on Harry's face again.  
  
Mrs. Weasley kept looking from one to the other in puzzlement. Ginny mostly kept her eyes on her food, though once or twice she looked up at Harry--though he couldn't interpret the look on her face.  
  
He went to bed that night almost reluctantly, as though if he let his head touch the pillow he would surely get stabbed. So preoccupied was he that he even forgot to change into his pajamas and went to bed still wearing his day clothes. He found that he didn't care, and now that he was in bed he didn't want to chance getting back up again. Every scrape of a branch against his door, the shuffling footsteps of Tom the innkeeper as he checked on the rooms, all of them made Harry's heart beat a little faster and made his breath come quick with fear.  
  
After a few hours, exhaustion finally carried Harry off into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were plagued with horrible visions of knives, swishing through the air...the sounds of high, cold laughter, belonging to the one person who still remained in his nightmares, the one reminder of his past--Voldemort...  
  
A soft click and a loud clunk, seemingly coming from a long way off, sufficiently succeeded in awaking Harry. At first he thought it was just a part of his dreams--until there was a soft, shuffling noise he had never heard before...it sounded as though someone were moving across the floor...someone, from the sound of it, trying to move quite stealthily.  
  
He raised his head a little off the pillow, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of something, anything, in his room--but could find nothing. With a sudden rush of cold fear he realized that he didn't have the Eye of Truth around his neck. It was still on his bedside table.  
  
Slowly, very slowly, holding his breath and trying not to make a sound, he slipped one hand out of his bedsheets and inched it toward his bedside table. At every step the intruder took, he flinched, his whole body stiffening with fear.  
  
At last, at long last, he had the Eye of Truth clenched in his hand. Shaking, he slipped the cold chain around his neck and squinted into the darkness again--and let out an involuntary hiss of breath as he saw, quite suddenly, who his intruder was.  
  
Even through the darkness he recognized the shock of pale hair. The man was far to Harry's right, wearing ragged black robes. He was hunched over, looking for something at waist height--and very suddenly, he crossed quickly to Harry's desk.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy..." Harry whispered.  
  
The man didn't hear him, rummaging around in Harry's desk. He found what he was looking for, and Harry sucked in a breath.  
  
Malfoy pocketed Harry's wand. Harry mentally cursed himself for leaving it in a place so far away from his bed. Malfoy crept over to Harry's door and paused--as though he were trying to find something hidden in the door. After a minute he crept back to the window he had come in from. Harry watched as Malfoy shuffled back to the window. He tried to open it, but it seemed like the window was still jammed. Cursing under his breath, he pointed Harry's wand at it and muttered something. The window sprang open at his command. Silent as a snake, he slipped through the window and disappeared, closing the window behind him.  
  
For a few moments Harry just lay there in shock. "Malfoy," he hissed. "How could Malfoy...?"  
That did it. He had to tell Ron and Hermione. He slipped himself out of bed and crossed to the door.  
  
Harry reached for the doorknob and tried to turn it. To his surprise, the doorknob seemed to be jammed--or locked. He couldn't open it. He twisted his hand around several times, getting more and more scared by the minute. Nothing gave way. Panicking, he ran back to the window and tried to open that too--until he discovered that it was locked too.  
  
"No!" Harry gasped.  
  
It was then that he noticed the faint blue sparkles being emitted from the doorknob. Those were the signs of something that had been magically locked. Frantically he remembered that Malfoy had paused in front of Harry's door and realized that Malfoy must have locked it from the inside using his wand--though why he would do that, he didn't know. With a sense of dread Harry also realized that the window was jammed and wouldn't open without an Alohomora spell. He couldn't open it easily without his wand. Malfoy had been able to open it--but he had opened it from outside, not from inside.  
  
He looked around his room and found a particularly heavy book. He could use this to try and break open the window. Slowly, he crossed over to the window and hit the book against it.  
  
It took three whacks until Harry realized that the book was too weak. He had to use something else--something stronger--  
  
After a moment's thought he went back to his trunk and took out his Firebolt. Using the hard, polished end of it, he managed to crack the window a little. He gave a hoarse cry and rammed the end of it into the window a bit harder.  
  
Several minutes later there was a small hole in the window, barely large enough for Harry to slip his arm through.  
  
He hesitated. What if he still couldn't open the window? What could he do?  
  
There was no other choice. Sucking in a deep breath, he inched his arm through the window.  
  
"Aagh!"  
  
The sharp edges of the broken window scratched at his arm. Thin lines of blood glistened on his skin. One particularly sharp edge ripped a bloodied part of his sleeve off, but Harry didn't want to go down and grab it from the floor. Gasping, he managed to get his forearm out and inched it downwards.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
There was a latch there, slippery with rain and dust--but it was there. Biting his lip, he fumbled with the catch until he heard the faint click that meant the window was open.  
  
Just as slowly, he took his arm out of the window-hole and raised the window enough for him to crawl through. Without a second thought he wriggled through the window and was out in the open.  
  
What would he do now? Would he double around to the front of the Leaky Cauldron so that he could go back in and talk to Ron and Hermione...? It was raining now, and the wind tossed his hair--he shivered, wondering if he would get a chill or get sick by standing out here like this...but he must make a decision...  
  
He saw, quite suddenly, what looked like a trail of gleaming black dust...and suddenly, he remembered what the store manager had told him about the Eye of Truth...  
  
It helps you see the dark secrets...  
  
Harry reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out the Eye of Truth. As he held it in his hand the "Eye" of the lens seemed to wink at him like it had the first time he had held it...  
  
Secrets no one else can see...  
  
This, then, must have been what the manager had been talking about. "Dark secrets," he had said. And he had said to Harry that there would be some visible form of those "secrets." Was this it, then? It didn't quite look like Harry imagined it...  
  
To be sure, Harry lifted the Eye of Truth from his neck. The black trail disappeared without any visible trace.  
  
He had to trust what the manager had said...and in the Eye of Truth.  
  
Hesitating, he looked back at the open window, the rain pushing his sopping hair into his eyes. No...he could not go back. There was no turning back. Ron and Hermione could find out for themselves...but Harry had to go. Now. If a Death Eater had the free use of a wand again, there was no telling what could happen...a wand, in the hands of a follower of Voldemort...  
  
He slipped the Eye of Truth back around his neck--and left, the rain whistling in his face...following Malfoy's secret trail. 


	9. He's Dead!

Chapter Nine  
  
"He's Dead!"  
  
Ron woke up early the next morning, quite unaware of what had woken him up so abruptly. There was a strange feeling of dread in his mind--he knew, without really having any facts to back it up except--  
  
"Something's happened to Harry!" Ron yelled ten minutes later, skidding into Hermione's room, dressed very sloppily. Hermione looked up at him, startled. She too was awake.  
  
"Ron!" she gasped, dragging him further inside her room. "What's wrong? What is it? What's wrong with Harry?"  
  
"I don't know," Ron hissed. "I just know. We have to go to him--quick."  
  
Five minutes later Ron and Hermione, both with wands in their pockets, were rushing toward Harry's room. Hermione knocked frantically at his door. "Harry? HARRY! Answer us!"  
  
Ron pressed his ear to the door. He could hear a faint screeching noise coming from inside Harry's bedroom--nothing else.  
  
He looked at Hermione desperately. "Something's wrong. I can feel it. Harry hasn't answered."  
  
"His door is locked!" cried Hermione. "Ron--I don't care what he'll think--we've got to open it. Stand back."  
  
She whipped out her wand. "Alohomora!"  
  
There was a loud click and the door slammed open. Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm. "Oh, my--"  
  
Ron could only stare at Harry's room. Hedwig, still in her cage, was screeching and flapping wildly as gusts of wind, blasting through the broken window, buffeted her feathers this way and that. Shards of glass littered the floor. Harry's prized Firebolt lay limply on the floor, surrounded by bits of glass and wood.  
  
Hermione let out a desolate cry and sprang forward, staring at the damage done to Harry's room. Ron stood there for a few minutes before he could work up the nerve to even take a step forward. What had happened...?  
  
He knelt down on the floor, stunned, and ran a hand over Harry's Firebolt. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't think of anything more that could have happened to Harry--except for the fact that he had been seriously hurt, or killed, or something...  
  
He heard Hermione let out another strangled cry and whipped around. "Hermione?"  
  
"R-ron!" she gasped.  
  
He got up quickly, following the sound of Hermione's voice. He found her kneeling below the broken window, clutching something to her face and sobbing. "Hermione..."  
  
Gently, he reached over and pried whatever she had been holding from her fist. She sobbed even harder, her face in her hands, shaking.  
  
"No..." he breathed.  
  
It was a shred of clothing, clothing Ron realized as the shirt Harry had been wearing only yesterday. It was stained with something that looked horribly like--  
  
"Blood." Ron's voice was flat now, emotionless. "Harry's blood."  
  
"He's dead." Hermione gasped. "He's dead, Ron. I know he's--he's--dead-- "  
  
"No. It can't be. It's not-- "  
  
"We have to go find him!" Hermione cried. "I don't care--he could be in trouble--we have to find him."  
  
Ron clenched the rag of clothing tighter in his hand. It was still a bit warm. When he opened his fist the blood from the rag left a red stain in his palm.  
  
"I've got an idea," he said quietly.  
  
"Tell us everything," Ron snarled as he burst into Ginny's room.  
  
Ginny looked up from her desk, startled. "Ron? What's wrong?" She caught sight of Hermione's despairing face, and her eyes went wide. "Hermione? What's happened?"  
  
"What do you know about this?" Ron demanded. He pushed the bloodied rag into Ginny's face. "Look at this."  
  
Ginny gasped. "What--is that-- "  
  
"Harry told you, didn't he?" Ron said. "He told you something. Tell us, Ginny--we need to know."  
  
"No--he--he--he didn't tell me anything," Ginny said, trembling. "He didn't say anything to me..."  
  
"Look, Ginny," Hermione said quietly, "We need to know everything he told you. He obviously knew something was about to happen. Harry's gone, Ginny...his room is empty...you can go and look for yourself..."  
  
Ginny stood up off her chair so fast that she knocked her chair over. "WHAT?"  
  
"Come and see for yourself!" Ron said, and he led the way over to Harry's room.  
  
Ginny blanched when she saw what had happened. Her eyes roamed over the broken window, to the Firebolt lying in a ring of broken shards of glass. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and looked wildly at Ron.  
  
"What--what happened?" she asked, trembling.  
  
"That's just it. We don't know," Ron said, putting his head in one shaking hand. "We know he told you something, Ginny. Tell us what he told you, and maybe we can sort this out."  
  
"Well..."Ginny said. "He-he told me not to tell you unless it was...absolutely important."  
  
"I think this counts as important, Ginny," Ron said. "There's a chance he could be dead, or in mortal danger. Does that sound important to you?"  
  
Ginny took another deep breath. "All right! All right! Look, all he told me was that he read--he read something Dad must've sent--he said he was getting worried--he knew something was going to happen to him. He knew that he would get in really big trouble really soon. He knew the names of the escaped Death Eaters--he said one of them was going to finish him off any day now."  
  
Ron's face had suddenly gone as white as a sheet. "Wait."  
  
He ran to Harry's desk, rifling through the papers. At last, at long last, he found what he was looking for--  
  
"Yes!"  
  
He brandished the newspaper article at the two girls. Ginny paled too when she saw the headline: Death Eaters Found!  
  
"No!" she cried. "No..." She looked wildly at Ron. "He--he told me about that before--oh, Ron..."  
  
"There's only one thing we can do," Ron said, crumpling up the newspaper. "We've got to go after him. Hermione?" he said. "I'll understand if you don't-- "  
  
"Forget it, Ron," Hermione said. "I'm going. I don't care what's going to happen. We have to go after Harry."  
  
Ginny suddenly stepped forward. "Do you have any idea where Harry might be?"  
  
"The Malfoy Manor," Ron said. "Our first stop. I can't be sure, but--like I said to Harry before, Malfoy's got very good reasons to hurt Harry."  
  
"Then I'm coming too," Ginny said firmly. "He trusted me. I'm coming with you."  
  
Ron looked quite taken aback. "But--Ginny--are you sure? I mean to say--I'm not trying to stop you, but..."  
  
"I'm sure," Ginny said, lifting her chin bravely. "Let's go after Harry." 


	10. An Old Enemy

Chapter Ten  
  
An Old Enemy  
  
I think you'll find this chapter to be full of surprises. I was shocked myself that I could come up with this. Could Draco Malfoy ever have a change of heart toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Read this and find out!  
  
Harry instantly regretted his decision to go after Malfoy so easily. The gusts of wind and cold, driving rain seemed to soak though his skin and chill him all the way to his bone. Within ten minutes into his journey he was shivering violently--yet he knew he couldn't stop. He had to keep going. The safety of large towns and wizarding shops had long been left behind. He'd already passed another small town.  
  
He was already in the countryside. He couldn't go back now.  
  
He wondered about Apparating--it had been a year since he had passed the test. He could easily Apparate to spare him the trouble--the thing was, he didn't know where to Apparate to.  
  
A shock ran through him as he looked at his watch. It was already seven in the morning. He'd been walking for over two hours. Ron and Hermione were probably up and awake by now. He wondered if they knew he was gone.  
  
The trail leading to Malfoy was becoming clearer, more definitive. Harry wondered if he was getting closer to his destination. A rush of both fear and excitement went through him, and he stopped short. Should he push on? If he just went back he could be safe in the Leaky Cauldron...eating breakfast...talking happily with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley...  
  
He began to run against the cold sheets of rain, his eyes on the shining black trail. It was getting wider--thicker--he could see it even more clearly now through the rain--  
  
Suddenly it stopped. He couldn't see it anymore. "What-- "  
  
Harry looked up and gasped. Looming directly in front of him was a magnificent manor. Rain splattered against the mullioned windows. Vines and moss grew over the stone bricks on the left side of it.  
  
The sheer size of the manor amazed Harry so much that for several minutes he just stood there, staring at it. It was then he noticed something strange about the manor...  
  
The black trail that Harry had followed on his way here seemed to be surrounding the entire manor. "Secrets..." Harry whispered, his voice barely audible over the howls of the wind. The house was practically enveloped by the mysterious black vapor.  
  
With a jolt he remembered something Fred and George Weasley had told him in his second year.  
  
"House-elves don't come cheap, you know...they come with mansions and things like that..." Harry remembered them saying something about a mansion. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that this, then, was probably Malfoy's famous mansion...though it looked damp, derelict, and unoccupied now...  
  
Without really knowing why he did it, he stepped forward and opened the door to the manor.  
  
As soon as Harry got inside the manor the door creaked shut behind him. He whipped around, his eyes wide with the intensity of the manor.  
  
"Wow."  
  
Huge bookcases and display cases lined every wall of the manor. Magnificent chandeliers, heavy with enchanted candles (now extinguished) and crystals. Ornate paintings adorned the walls. There was even a huge painting covering the entire ceiling. Harry looked a little closer and saw, feeling a slight chill run through him, that the painting was of snakes in a garden--creatures the wizarding world considered evil. A few of them even looked like the dreaded basilisk he had met in his second year.  
  
He wished more than ever that he had his wand with him. He felt extremely vulnerable in a place like this without his wand. It was also very dark--he wished he could just pull out his wand, say "Lumos!" and watch the familiar light appear on the tip of his wand. At least it could give him some comfort in this place.  
  
He edged his way over to a particularly suspicious display case. There were several dusty bottles filled with various odd liquids and other objects. Harry saw, shivering slightly, what looked like a bottle filled with pickled animal remains floating in a greenish-yellow liquid. There was one bottle labeled SLEEPING DRAFT, another labeled SNAKE VENOM. Three bottles proclaimed the glutinous, sticky-looking liquid inside as POLYJUICE POTION. One of them had a thick, deep-red liquid that looked horribly like blood--though it wasn't labeled.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Harry jumped and whipped around, his heart banging against his ribs as he looked frantically around to see who had said that.  
  
It was Draco--Draco Malfoy. His expression was just as sour and as self-important as Harry remembered. He couldn't believe Malfoy was still here. His hair was still pale...his eyes were just as malevolent...  
  
"I said, what the hell are you doing here, Potter?" he snarled. His wand-tip was alight and his eyes glittered in its light. He looked Harry up and down, his lip curling. "Haven't changed much, have you, Potter? I suppose you still hang out with that filthy Mudblood?"  
  
"If you're trying to pick a fight with me it isn't working," Harry replied coolly. "I've got far more things to worry about than the likes of you, Malfoy."  
  
Draco went slightly pink, and his brow flattened over his mutinous eyes. "I'll bet you do, Potter. Such as--how about getting arrested by the Ministry of Magic for trespassing on my manor?"  
  
"I don't suppose you have anything to worry about as well," Harry said offhandedly. "Unless you can instantly find your father and miraculously release his charges of being a Death Eater."  
  
Draco's mouth arranged itself into a frown. "What do you know of my father? Have you seen him lately, Potter?"  
  
This was ultimately the last thing Harry expected Draco to say. "What?"  
  
"He's been missing for months now," Draco said, circling around Harry. "What do you know?"  
  
"He was sneaking around," Harry said shortly. He wouldn't give Draco such important information so easily. "He almost tried to kill me. Is that enough for you?"  
  
"He tried to kill you?" Malfoy said. "I don't believe this!"  
  
That totally shocked Harry. The way Draco had said that...it sounded as though he were against his father. That was a first. Draco almost sounded indignant on Harry's behalf.  
  
"What did you say that for?" Harry demanded.  
  
"He told us that he would never go back to his ways as a Death Eater," Draco said. "He promised. He brought shame to our family. My mother couldn't take the endless hiding, so..."  
"Why, what happened?" Harry asked, for once forgetting about the way Draco had treated him back in Hogwarts.  
  
Draco's face was stone. "She left," he said curtly. "Went to go live with some friends. I've been stuck here alone with my father. A few months ago he left and didn't tell us where. I've been looking for him ever since...been here and there, to different inns...the rest of it is none of your business, if you know what's good for you, Potter."  
  
Harry only shrugged and acted as though he hadn't heard him.  
  
"Back to my first question. What are you doing here in my manor? How did you even know I was here?" Draco demanded.  
  
"I'm looking for your father," Harry said. "And as for knowing where your manor is, I'm not telling you if I could help it."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't care. Look, Potter, do yourself a favor and get out before I curse you." He pointed his wand at Harry.  
  
Harry stepped back. "Don't you dare."  
  
"Try me," Draco laughed.  
  
Looking around desperately, Harry saw another shining black trail leading into a dark corridor. Draco's father! Draco probably didn't even know his father had snuck in. "Malfoy," Harry said. "I'll make you a deal. If you let me go around and explore your manor, I'll--I'll help you find--I'll help you find your father."  
  
"What do you know about my father's whereabouts?" Draco demanded, his wand still pointing at Harry's chest.  
  
"More than you do," Harry shot back. "But I'll only help if you don't curse me."  
  
Draco seemed to be considering this. Finally, he lowered his wand a little. "I suppose," Draco said. "If it'll help find my father...but I'm warning you, Potter-- " He raised his wand again and pointed it between Harry's eyes. "One wrong move--I'm serious--I'm going to have to hurt you. Give me a reason to do it, and I will."  
  
"Understood," Harry snarled. "Now come on, there's no time to act so sinister." He nodded his head toward the corridor. "Wand out, but no funny stuff, got it?"  
  
"Only if you'll follow the same rules," Malfoy replied, twirling his wand in a threatening sort of way.  
  
"Where does that corridor lead?" Harry demanded, pointing to the corridor where the sparkling black trail led.  
  
"That?" Malfoy said contemptuously. "That just leads to the main room."  
  
"The main room?" Harry couldn't help saying. "You mean this isn't your main room?"  
  
"No," Draco said, staring at Harry as though he were crazy. "This is only the parlor."  
  
Harry only shook his head in disbelief. "All right...come on..."  
  
Shrugging, Malfoy raised his wand again so that the light fell before Harry and followed him down the darkened corridor.  
  
Harry felt several more chills run through him as they got further and further into the corridor. Both his and Draco's footsteps seemed to echo unnaturally loudly as they pressed forward. Aged layers of dust and grit flew into both Harry's and Draco's faces, making them cough violently. Several times Draco walked right into Harry because Harry would suddenly stop in mid-step, doubled over and coughing.  
  
"Haven't--gone through--here in a--while, have you?" Harry said in-between coughs, his eyes watering. Draco probably hadn't heard the sarcastic tone in his voice (or chose to overlook it) for he only said "yeah," in an offhand voice.  
  
After Harry managed to get over his coughing fits, they both walked on. Harry kept his eyes on the floor the whole time, watching the glimmering black trail. Several times Draco tried to ask Harry how he knew to go down this corridor, but Harry wouldn't answer.He kept his Eye of Truth underneath his collar the whole time. Draco might be helping him right now, but in no way would he talk to him--let alone show him how he knew where Draco's father was--unless he absolutely had to.  
  
They had finally reached a rotting door. The black trail, Harry saw, snaked under it. As he put his hand on the doorknob to turn it, he felt dust and grime under his palm. Feeling a slight flicker of apprehension, he turned it; with an alarming creak the door swung open to reveal a large, musty room.  
  
"This is the parlor," he heard Draco mutter. The light emanating from his wand roamed over several dusty tables, chairs (a few of them overturned) and various magical objects. Harry saw a flowerpot lying on the floor, broken, shards of clay everywhere. It would have been totally unremarkable if it were not for the sparkling green powder that littered the floor where the pot had fallen. It looked a lot like the Floo powder that the Weasley family was so fond of using. There were even several more bottles of dangerous-looking potions and other liquids lined up on the tops of several corner tables.  
  
"A bit potion-happy, are you?" Harry said waspishly. Draco glared at him, but didn't raise his wand to curse Harry.  
  
"If you're trying to be funny, Potter, it's not working. Now hurry up. What does this have to do with my father?"  
  
"I'm not exactly sure right now, but it's helped," Harry said, turning away from Draco. "Come on-- "  
  
He was cut off by a sudden shout from directly behind him.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Harry instinctively threw himself under a table--so did Draco. Both of them dived under the same wooden table, upsetting several chairs in their wake. Harry covered his head with his hands as splinters of wood, some of them nearly half-a-foot long, pelted the table. Some pieces managed to hit both Draco and Harry, opening even more cuts on their hands and arms. He closed his eyes, hearing more splinters bouncing off the floor right next to him, and seeing red flashes of light penetrating the darkness of his eyelids...  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Ron?" Harry raised his head a few inches from the floor, incredulous. Ron's hand snaked under the table, outstretched, helping Harry up. Harry reached up and took Ron's hand, crawling out from under the table and dragging himself to his feet. Draco looked up too.  
  
"Weasley," Harry heard him mutter. Ron gave a start and looked back down at Draco.  
  
"Malfoy!" he snarled. "What's he doing here? He should be in prison!"  
  
"I want to know what you're doing here!" Harry shouted back. He suddenly felt extremely angry. "What are you doing? Why--why did you bring Ginny along? And Hermione!" He had just spotted the two girls, cowering slightly behind Ron.  
  
"I thought I would need backup," Ron growled. "And it looks like I had good reason to take them along. Especially when you're hanging out with that piece of filth." He pointed his wand at Draco. "I want to know what he was doing with you. Now."  
  
"It's none of your business, Weasley," Draco sneered, raising his own wand. "Get out of my manor."  
  
Ron, however, was ready. He swished his wand upward and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"  
  
Draco was promptly blasted backward. His wand flew in a high arc and sailed across the room in Ginny's direction. She reached out and caught it deftly.  
  
Draco was looking quite helpless now, sprawled against the wall. He flattened himself against the wall behind him as Ron advanced menacingly, his wand held out in front of him.  
  
"You little piece of vermin," Ron snarled. "You've got no right to say that to me--you have no-- "  
  
"I say whatever I want, Weasley," Draco hissed back, glaring back at him. "Get out of my manor!"  
  
"Your father is the reason Harry's here right now!" Hermione said shrilly, getting into the fight. "If it weren't for you and your stinking--your foul--your father, Harry wouldn't have to be here!"  
  
Ron seemed to take Hermione's outburst as even more incentive for cursing Malfoy. "You'll be sorry for everything you've done to us, Malfoy!"  
  
With a cold shock of amazement Harry realized what Ron was about to do. Without knowing how or why he did it, he thrust himself between Ron and Malfoy. "STOP IT!"  
  
Instead of a curse, only a few harmless sparks flew out of Ron's wand. He goggled at Harry, his eyes wide with astonishment at Harry's foolish but brave move.  
  
"Have you gone insane?" Ron gasped. "Have you gone mad?"  
  
"Don't curse him, Ron," Harry said. "If you're going to curse him, you'd better hex me first, because there's nothing that will make me move."  
  
"What are you doing?" Hermione shrieked. "Harry, don't you know what you're missing? This filth would never have had lifted a finger to help you at Hogwarts! You shouldn't be helping him, you should be joining in with Ron and helping him instead!"  
  
"If Malfoy's as bad as you think, then why hasn't he tried to curse me before?" Harry yelled back. "He could've whipped out his wand and cursed me a thousand times before--before you came along! He could've killed me!"  
  
"He might have," Ron bellowed, "If we hadn't come and saved your life!"  
  
"You didn't save my life, because I didn't need saving!" Harry snarled. "Malfoy's helped me more than you'll ever know!"  
  
"I'd like to know how!" Ginny said suddenly, joining into the fray. "Why are you doing this, Harry?"  
  
Harry couldn't quite take it anymore.  
  
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!" he screamed.  
  
Stunned silence followed his outburst. Everyone was frozen, their mouths open; even Draco, cowering against the wall, looked quite aghast.  
  
Ron had even dropped his wand. It clattered loudly to the floor and rolled in Harry's direction. He kicked it furiously back toward Ron.  
  
"Malfoy's helped me more than you'll ever know," Harry said, still breathing rather quickly. "He's looking for his father too, as I am. His father is the one who had broken into my room--I suppose you saw the damage, did you? And Malfoy was your first guess..."  
  
"We were right, weren't we?" Hermione whispered. "You're here, aren't you?"  
  
"I told you, he could've cursed me a thousand times over! He even lit his wand for me so I could look in his manor!" Harry said. "Now, we're going to go look through his manor again, to look for clues that'll lead to Lucius Malfoy. If you want to come along, fine. But if try to curse Malfoy again, Ron, you're going, and I don't care what happens. Have you got that?"  
  
Ron was so stunned, so thunderstruck, that he could only open his mouth and close it again several times. Finally, he said, "All-all right, Harry--but if he tries any funny stuff..." He stooped down and picked up his wand, pointing it threateningly at Draco for one breathless moment. "...if he's going to try anything to hurt you...I'm cursing him, and you're not stopping me."  
  
"Fine," Harry said irritably. "Hermione, Ginny, are you coming?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny murmured, sounding almost frightened.  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione said urgently; Harry guessed she didn't want Ginny to get caught up in this whole risky business--"You really don't have to go if you don't want to. You can just stay here and-and wait for us, and if you know something's happened, you can go and run and alert the Ministry."  
  
There was a rustle from behind Harry as Draco got unsteadily to his feet.  
  
"I have to agree," he said tentatively; Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry all turned around to stare, astonished, at him. "She--could be useful, I mean...she could get help if any of us are put in mortal danger..."  
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
"Well-- " he said finally, "Ginny--will you be okay if--if you could just wait here? If you think any of us have gotten into trouble--no, wait--you could go all the way back to Diagon Alley--no, it's too far..."  
  
"She could use this," Ron said, and he jogged back to the blasted doorway. Lying there, surrounded by several splinters of wood as long as Harry's arm, was his Firebolt.  
  
"My Firebolt!" Harry gasped hoarsely. "How--why did you--?"  
  
"I don't quite know," Ron said, looking wonderingly at the broom still clutched in his hands. "I suppose I knew we could use it...here." He passed it Ginny. "You take this, and you fly back to Diagon Alley. You know how to get there, right? Just to the northeast..."  
  
"R-right," Ginny said, looking slightly nervous. "You--you don't mind, do you, Harry?"  
  
"Of course not," Harry said.  
  
"Right," Hermione said, suddenly rather businesslike, "We'll get started. Ginny--good luck. Ron and I will go with Malfoy."  
  
"Let me have his wand, Ginny," Ron said, and Ginny slapped Draco's wand into his hand. Draco made no move to retrieve his wand, as Ron was still looking quite murderous.  
  
"Good luck, Ginny," Harry said faintly, and Ginny nodded and walked off, back toward the entrance of the Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"In front, Malfoy," Ron snarled, prodding Draco in the back with his wand. Draco looked as though he were about to spit a dirty remark in Ron's direction, but quieted when Harry shook his head warningly.  
  
"You're going to help us through your manor--we'll do the rest," he said to Draco as he walked resentfully in front of Harry. "Hermione, keep your wand alight."  
  
"All right," Hermione said, and quickly muttered, "Lumos!"  
  
A warm, comforting light appeared at the end of her wand, and the little group walked on.  
  
"This is the place where my father kept all the other potions that wouldn't fit in the book-cases," Harry heard Draco murmur as they walked into a room to their right. This room was even more enormous than the first room Harry had entered the manor through.  
  
Various bottles and vials littered the tables. Many of them looked as through they had never been used. Harry crossed over to a group of some particularly suspicious substances and gazed fixedly at them. He blew the dust off of one in order to decipher what had been written on its label: POWDERED UNICORN HORN. He rubbed the dust off of another one with his sleeve: PICKLED DRAGON'S EYE.  
  
"What did you have to use all these for?" Ron demanded of Draco as Harry went over to examine some more bottles.  
  
Draco shrugged distractedly. "I really don't know. There used to be a lot more bottles and stuff in here, but I think Father took them all with him when he disappeared. This is all that's left. It's all just rotting away in here."  
  
"I find that easy to believe," Hermione murmured, lifting her wand to reveal a large cabinet full of what looked like pickled animal parts floating in various poisonous-looking liquids.  
  
"Come look at this," Harry called over his shoulder to her; Ron and Draco followed tensely. He had just found a small, suspicious-looking bottle. His finger squeaked on the ancient glass as he rubbed the dust off of the front.  
  
"Polyjuice Potion!" Ron said. "It doesn't look like it's been used, though..."  
  
"You're probably right," Hermione said. "Anyway, it looks far too old to be used...you have to use Polyjuice Potion within a certain amount of time, and this one's probably lost its potency. Is there a date on the label?"  
  
"It was made a year ago," Harry replied, leaning in closer to the tiny bottle.  
  
"Then it's virtually useless," Hermione said, shrugging.  
  
"I don't think we'll find anything more in here," Harry said, straightening up and looking around. "There's nothing in here but bottles."  
  
"Let's go, then," Ron said, prodding Draco in the back with his wand.  
  
The little group set off again, prowling the darkened corridors of Malfoy's house. Harry's nerves were jangling. He wondered how Ginny had been getting on--no, he thought, there was no need for worry. At any rate she would come armed with Ministry officials, and they would do a further investigation (he hoped).  
  
Things weren't going so well with Ron and Draco. The two kept glaring daggers at each other, and more than once Harry had to turn around and threaten to curse them both (borrowing Hermione's wand and whirling it in the air as an extra warning) in order to stop them from shooting nasty remarks at each other and ultimately ending up in a fight. All in all, no one nerves were calm as they turned a corner and stepped out into the next corridor.  
  
"What the-- "  
  
Harry stopped dead, causing Ron to walk right into him.  
  
None of the manor's many chandeliers and hanging candles had been lit so far into their journey. However, as soon as they turned the corridor they saw that the candles in this hall were all brightly glimmering, lighting the way onward.  
  
"Did you light those before?" Hermione whispered to Draco.  
  
"No," he muttered back, looking astonished at all the brightly winking candles.  
  
"They couldn't light all by themselves," Ron said suspiciously. "Someone must've come along and lit them."  
  
"Somebody else is here," Harry hissed. "I can feel it. There's someone here that shouldn't be." He turned to the others. "There's another room over there, and there. You and Malfoy go in those rooms--see if you can find anything. If you get in trouble, Ron--well, you should know what to do, we've been in worse situations before. I don't want you cursing Malfoy, got it? Give his wand back to him when you need to."  
  
Ron nodded, though rather reluctantly.  
  
"Hermione and I will press on in that direction," Harry continued, pointing vaguely toward the end of the lit corridor. "Hermione's got her wand. She'll be able to cover me, won't you, Hermione?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right then," Harry said. "If we're not back in an hour, Ron, don't worry about us--just get out of here as fast as you can, and look for Ginny. Don't do anything stupid, all right? We'll meet outside in a bit. Got that?"  
  
Both Ron and Draco nodded wordlessly.  
  
"All right then," Harry said, motioning for Hermione to follow him. "Come on. See you," he said to Ron.  
  
He and Hermione walked straight forward, their footsteps echoing loudly in the corridor. From behind him he heard Ron and Malfoy head into one of the rooms on the right. 


	11. The Death Eater's Revenge

Chapter Eleven  
  
The Death Eater's Revenge  
  
The black trail of "secrets" shimmered before Harry in a glimmering, endless trail. It stretched all the way down the corridor. Harry followed it silently, his eyes fixed on the trail. He only just realized how much he had been concentrating when Hermione said,  
  
"What are you looking at?"  
  
Without thinking, Harry replied, "The black trail on the ground--can't you see it?"  
  
Too late, he realized his mistake. Hermione looked at him as though he were crazy.  
  
"Well--er-- " He didn't really know how to explain this, so he told the whole story of him going down to a wizarding shop in Diagon Alley and buying an Eye of Truth in one long, rushing sentence.  
  
"--and the manager told me that the Eye sees all secrets--it allowed me to see when Lucius Malfoy broke in, he was wearing an Invisibility Cloak at the time--and I saw him steal my wand, and I followed the trail he left behind all the way here. This is the Eye of Truth,  
  
look--" And he showed Hermione the Eye of Truth, pulling it out from underneath his shirt.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes widening as she looked at the tiny lens, "You should have told Ron and I about this."  
  
"I couldn't," Harry said. "I thought--well, something told me I wasn't ready to tell you yet. But now I am."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Well, it's a little late, but now's not the time for me to be giving you a lecture. I must admit, a thing like that might come in handy. It already has." She nodded in the direction Harry had been walking. "Lead the way."  
  
Harry nodded, and they set off again. Harry's heart was beating harder and faster than ever. He didn't think he'd like what he would see at the end of the corridor, yet he had to keep going. Suppose they caught Lucius Malfoy? What would happen then?  
  
They were drawing closer and closer to the end of the corridor. To Harry's relief, there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary ahead of him. The candles, too--they were almost cheerful, with their lights winking in a somewhat friendly way toward him...Harry felt his heart relaxing, a sense of relief filling him. There was nothing here. He could just turn back and find Ron, and they could set off together again--  
  
Suddenly there was a violent scuffling noise behind him. Harry whipped around, cold terror taking the place of warm comfort. For a few moments, he stood there paralyzed, unable to move for fear.  
  
Someone--or something--was dragging Hermione into a room he hadn't seen before. It had been hidden cleverly in the wall, the door to it painted to look just like it. There was a black-robed arm wrapped around Hermione's neck in a sort of headlock, yanking her through the doorway. Horrified, he watched as Hermione shrieked, her wand dropping out of her hand and skidding toward him--then, with a final scream and a loud slam, the door swung shut in Harry's face, leaving him all alone in the corridor.  
  
Harry's senses kicked in right at that moment. Seizing Hermione's wand from the floor, he ran to the wall and tried to force his way through it. He could still hear Hermione's terrified shrieks, now becoming fainter and fainter.  
  
"No," he gasped, "No--no..."  
  
Desperately, he ran his hands over the surface of the wall, feeling paint peeling off right under his palms. He didn't know what he was searching for, but he just knew that this would lead him to the right answer--  
  
There! There was a small keyhole on the wall, so small that it was not easily noticeable; Harry, however, had managed to find it by running his palms over the wall. He pushed hard on the wall again--nothing budged.  
  
"Alohomora!" he bellowed, jabbing Hermione's wand at the keyhole.  
  
At his command the wall swung open to reveal a dark corridor. It was pitch-black, and for all Harry looked, he may have been blind--that was how dark it was compared to the well-lit corridor.  
  
Without any hesitation, he lit Hermione's wand and leaped through the wall.  
  
The hidden door swung shut with a heavy thud as he ran, Hermione's wand held high in his hand. This seemed to be an underground passageway or something through the manor--the floor sloped greatly, and the ground was quite uneven.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry heard himself yell through the stillness that seemed to envelop the passage. "Hermione! Where are you!"  
  
He was running flat out now, doubled over with effort, head bowed and back hunched. His Eye of Truth banged against his chest as he ran, slipping and sliding over the cracked, uneven floor.  
  
Finally, his desperate ears heard the faintest flicker of sound--the sound of a girl screaming--  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"Help!" she was shrieking. "Somebody please help me! Please!"  
  
Harry slid to a stop--he had stopped in a large sort of hallway, and there were many rooms surrounding him--  
  
"HELP! PLEASE-- "  
  
The screaming was coming from the fifth door to the left of him. He sprinted toward it--  
  
To Harry's immense horror, the screaming suddenly stopped, cut off by a sound remarkably like a knife clinking against metal--  
  
"REDUCTO!"  
  
The door from which he had heard Hermione's shrieks was blasted back, out of his way. Harry covered his eyes with his arms, shielding it from the bits of wood and metal that went flying.  
  
"No..."  
  
Hermione was there all right. She was lying on a table, her ankles tied together; so were her wrists. She didn't even raise her head when Harry appeared, covered in bits of wood. The reason for that became very apparent in only a few moments.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was holding a long, jagged, and very sharp dagger to her throat. A very thin trickle of blood slithered from the bottom of her chin to her collarbone. Her eyes were wide with terror; her teeth were gritted in an effort not to move.  
  
Malfoy smiled, his pale eyes sweeping Harry up and down. Harry's eyes strayed to his other hand, and he saw his own wand clasped in the pale hand.  
  
"I'm waiting, Harry," he said softly, the evil grin spreading over his face.  
  
Harry's breath came fast. His fingers tensed, and Hermione's wand clattered, useless, to the floor. It was all Harry could do not to copy it and to crumple to the floor in despair as well.  
  
"I'd never have thought you'd come this far, Potter," Lucius Malfoy said, still smiling that same calm smile. "I thought you'd have enough sense to leave my manor. You've shown a lot of nerve, Potter, a lot of nerve... unfortunately-- " he pressed the knife a bit harder into Hermione's neck, and her whole body shuddered there on the table, "--what a shame, when after all that, I'm going to have to kill you all tonight. Every last one of you."  
  
Malfoy's smile lessened into a frown as he saw the wand lying there next to Harry's leg.  
  
"Give me that wand, Potter. You know what'll happen if you don't."  
  
Trembling helplessly, Harry stooped down and threw the wand to Malfoy. Every bit of him was trembling with fear and confusion.  
  
"Ah," he said, tenderly touching the wand Harry had thrown to him. He let the knife fall to the floor, and Harry stiffened involuntarily as the loud clatter echoed throughout the chamber. For a few moments he looked at Hermione's wand--then, with a loud snap that reverberated around the room, he snapped her wand in half and threw the pieces away. Hermione's eyes widened in horror.  
  
"I suppose you know what's happened to me, haven't you, Potter?" Malfoy stepped away from Hermione and began walking steadily toward Harry. "I've been on the run, of course, since my master perished at your hands...what a pity, you only had one year to enjoy this time-- "  
  
Laughing softly, he raised Harry's wand and pointed it straight at Harry.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
And Harry felt it again, felt the all-too-familiar pain as the spell hit him hard. He fell to the floor, the unbearable pain penetrating his very bones, sinking into his entire being--he was screaming louder than Hermione had--he felt, as dimly as though he had been separated from his body--he felt himself twitching madly, heard Malfoy's cruel laughter as he jerked and screamed on the ground. Hermione was screaming too, sobbing--but Harry could barely hear her--it felt as though his body were being sliced all over with knives--he lost all sense as the pain overtook him--  
  
And, then, suddenly, it was over. Harry lay gasping on the ground, still shaking uncontrollably. The smallest moans of pain escaped from his lips, sounds he had never heard come from his own mouth before. Malfoy's smile became even wider.  
  
"Ah-- " he breathed, his face alight with satisfaction. "That hurt a lot, didn't it, Harry? Didn't it hurt?"  
  
Shuddering, Harry pressed his face into the floor, making every effort not to make a sound to answer Malfoy. Malfoy's brow flattened over his eyes, transforming then into the smallest slits of pale hatred.  
  
"Oh, the brave Harry Potter," Malfoy sneered, circling around Harry now--Harry drew his knees up to his chest, his face screwed up with the effort of not letting any sound escape his lips--"Always defiant toward those he should be obeying. Oh, I'm going to love doing this to you, aren't I, Harry? I'm going to enjoy this..."  
  
"You--" Harry gasped, before he could control himself, "--you're a monster--you filthy--"  
  
Malfoy's smile vanished completely from his face.  
  
"Hmm, Potter--you're going to need to learn how to think before you speak, aren't you? Perhaps this will teach you-- "  
  
Harry shuddered. "No--no--please!"  
  
Malfoy lifted the wand again, and before Harry could plead any more, he had been hit once more by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain became so intense that he could feel his body jerking out of his control again--he was twisting madly on the ground, screaming--he no longer knew where he was, all he knew was that all he wanted was for the pain to end, to die, to have Malfoy kill him--  
  
Once again the pain stopped, leaving Harry to jerk and twitch on the ground, gasping. Malfoy's face had gone rigid. To Harry's horror he heard a faint banging and clattering coming from the rooms above him.  
  
"You've brought your little friends, haven't you?" Malfoy snarled at Harry, pointing Harry's wand at him. "You little meddlers--I should kill you right now..."  
  
Harry gasped, stiffening involuntarily, as Malfoy raised the wand a bit higher. He opened his mouth--he took a deep breath--  
  
"No," he said, smiling with cruel satisfaction. "I won't kill you. I'll leave you here. Wouldn't you like that, Potter? Dying with your friends..."  
  
He reached one pale hand down, yanking Harry up by the collar. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you," he said, as with a deft wave of Harry's wand, he tied Harry's ankles and wrists up. "I must say, it is nice to have a wand back in my hands, after so many months without one..." Laughing softly, he checked that the ropes binding Harry were secure.  
  
"Only one thing, now, Potter," he whispered, "I'm afraid I'll have to do this, if I want to kill the others without any distraction...Oh, don't worry, Potter, I won't use magic for this..."  
He kicked Harry hard unto the end of the table where Hermione lay. Harry gasped as the end of the table jarred him in the stomach, knocking all the wind out of him. There was another blow to his head, and something caught him in the chest again--  
  
Then, there was nothing but darkness--the blessed, silent darkness, where Harry could feel no more pain--where he could feel nothing at all. 


	12. Draco's End

Chapter Twelve

Draco's End

Note: Sorry about the long (very long!) wait for these next few chapters. I was preoccupied with all my other stories and my computer was NOT cooperating with me so that's why it took me such a long time to get these next chapters up. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this story!

                "You don't think something's happened to them?" Ron hissed tensely to Draco as they looked around yet another dust-filled room.

                "I hope not," Draco said rather nervously. "If the Ministry finds us here…"

                "_You're_ the only one who needs to worry," Ron snarled. "Come on, let's go." He nodded in the direction of the next doorway.

                "Didn't Potter tell you to give me my wand back?" Draco said angrily.

                "He said to give it back when I needed to," Ron said shortly. "I don't need to yet, so forget it and move."

                They had just headed out into the hallway again when they heard a loud scraping noise and the dull thud of a very heavy door being shut.

                "What was that?" Ron whispered.

                "I think I know," Draco suddenly said. His face was even paler than before. "Come on, Weasley, we have to look." He took off running down the corridor, skipping over all the doors to the left and right of them.

                "Father had a lot of secret passageways," Draco muttered to Ron as they ran. "The nearest one is just around this corner— "

                He stopped short. Ron nearly crashed into him, staring at the wall opposite him with immense astonishment.

                "Lucius Malfoy!"

                Draco's father was standing there nonchalantly, watching as the two boys stared at him.

                "Draco," he said, smiling. "It's me."

                "What are you doing back here?" Draco snarled at his father. Ron looked quickly at him; he had never heard Draco speak so angrily to his father.

                "I thought you already knew," Lucius said pleasantly. "I've come back for your mother."

                "Well, you're a bit late for that," Draco spat. "Several months late, in fact. She's gone. She went to live with some friends of hers."  
                "Oh, that's too bad, isn't it?" Lucius said. The way he said it, it was as though he and Draco were only having a friendly discussion about old friends. "Yes…very unfortunate indeed. Well, Draco, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you too— "

                "Like what?" Draco's face was taut with anger. "Asking me to take you back? To plead with the Ministry to let you go? It's too late for that. Everyone knows what you were. There's no way out now."

                "Yes there is, son, yes there is," Lucius laughed. "There's always a way out. No, Draco, that wasn't the question I'd like to ask. No. I'd like to ask what you are doing with a Weasley." He nodded his pale-haired head at Ron.

                "You don't deserve to know why," Draco growled. "You don't deserve anything from— "

                At that moment there was a loud shriek, reverberating off the walls. Lucius' face paled as the shriek went on, pleading, begging for help.

                "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Draco roared, leaping at his father. Before Lucius could do anything else, Draco had grabbed him around the collar and had slammed him against the wall.

                "Draco!" Ron said, his eyes wide. "The wall!"

                The wall against which Draco had pinned his father was slowly opening, revealing a long, dark passageway. Draco immediately let go of his father and sprinted down the corridor, following the screams.

                "Draco!" Ron bellowed, following him at a dead run. "Wait!"

                Draco slid to a stop, and Ron nearly crashed into him again. They had stopped in a large, dark corridor, filled with many doors and rooms.

                The screaming stopped.

                "No…" Draco hissed. "Where did it come from? Where?"

                "We have to check the rooms!" Ron said. "You take that one!"

                They both lunged forward into different rooms. 

                Ron kicked the door he had chosen with his foot. The ancient, rotting wood gave way quickly. He looked in, only to be filled with despair. There was nothing there—only a collapsed table and a cauldron.

                He heard loud footsteps echoing off of the hallway behind him. Heart pounding, he raced back out—in time to see Lucius Malfoy striding into the room he knew Draco was in.

                "DRACO!" Ron screamed, charging out of his room. "DRACO!"

                He slid into the room beyond, in time to see Lucius' mouth curl into a horrid smile.

                "BEHIND YOU!" Ron screamed.

                Draco turned abruptly, his mouth open in horror.

                "Good-bye, Draco," Lucius said pleasantly. "You have disappointed me, my son."

                "NO!" Ron gasped.

                _"Avada Kedavra!"_ Malfoy cried, swishing his wand at Draco.

                There was a blaze of green light. Ron screamed again, closing his eyes in terror—he heard a whooshing noise, and the hair on his head rippled as though it were in a high wind—dimly, he heard something fall heavily to the ground in front of him—

                Then it was over. Shaking, Ron opened his eyes, knowing, somehow, what he was about to see.

                Draco lay dead on the ground in front of him. His pale eyes were wide open, and so was his mouth—as though he were still screaming. But now the pale face had a horrible vacant look—no one was there behind those pale eyes, no one at all.

                Before Ron could feel anything but cold, numbing shock, he felt someone seize him by the back of his collar. Malfoy was dragging him out of the room. 

                "You monster," Ron gasped. "He was your son! Your own son! And you—you killed him—you killed him!"

                "HE IS NOT MY SON!" Malfoy suddenly roared, yanking Ron around. "HE IS NO SON OF MINE! ANY ONE WHO HELPS HARRY POTTER IS NO FRIEND TO ME! I HAVE NO SON NOW, AND I AM GLAD OF IT!"

                He dragged Ron over to a corner of the corridor. There was a thick stone pillar here with various magical creatures carved into it. He seized Ron by the collar and slammed him against it. Malfoy conjured up ropes from his wand, instantly tying Ron's hands to the pillar. His face curled into a nasty sneer as he looked down at Ron.

                "Have you ever died before, Weasley?" he whispered, his malevolent face very close to Ron's. "Have you ever felt such pain in your life that you wanted to die?"

                Ron didn't answer.

                "I'll be back in a minute," he said, and without another word, he turned and headed back to the wall.

                "NO!" Ron screamed. "NO! NO!"

                "You should have realized," Malfoy murmured, turning around to look at Ron over his shoulder, "That I would kill you. Good-bye."

                The wall opened, and he disappeared down the passageway, his soft and unpleasant laughter fading away.

                Shaking, Ron tried as hard as he could to free himself from the pillar. He struggled, he pulled, he even tried to bite the ropes off of his wrists. But it was no good.

                "No," he gasped. "NO!"

                Suddenly he remembered. _Draco's wand. _It was his last hope.

                He twisted his body around, curling around the pillar, trying to shake Draco's wand free from his pocket. After a few breathless minutes—

                "Yes!"

                Draco's wand slid out of his pocket onto the floor. Ron used his foot to slide the wand closer to the pillar. Grunting with effort, he managed to press his foot down on it and slide it up the pillar. It took him many tries to get it to come near enough so that he could twist his head over and catch the wand in his teeth. 

                Heart pounding, praying that he wouldn't drop it, he slowly maneuvered the wand to one of his hands. He took a deep breath and twisted his wrist around so that the wand-tip pointed at the ropes. 

                Closing his eyes, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and murmured the words for a Severing Charm.


	13. Hopeless

Chapter Thirteen

Hopeless

                Hermione sobbed in despair. There was no hope to be had…none at all.

                Lucius Malfoy had knocked Harry out and plunked him on the table next to her. His face was pressed into the wood, pale and damp with sweat. His eyes were closed, and showed no hope of opening. Lucius had been gone for over twenty minutes now.

                "HARRY!" Hermione screamed, hitting him hard on the shoulder with her own head. "HARRY! Wake up! Please!"

                His head only lolled around hopelessly. His glasses slipped off his nose and fell to the floor.

                "SOMEBODY PLEASE!" she shrieked. "SOMEBODY HELP US! PLEASE! HELP!"

                She heard the sound of footsteps suddenly echo off the walls. She stopped, barely letting herself believe it. Was it Ron, coming to help? _Please,_ she thought, _please…_  
                Her heart sank miserably when she saw the familiar black cloak swish into view. "No…" she sobbed. "No…no…"

                Lucius Malfoy swept into her sight, looking very pleased and twirling her wand between his pale fingers. He walked right up to her and bent down so that he and Hermione were eye to eye.

                "You almost alerted someone that you were here," he said pleasantly. "Your friend Ron Weasley and Draco nearly came down here to rescue you."

                Hermione's eyes widened, she gasped and shook her head violently. 

                "Luckily Potter gave me your wand, Granger," he continued, smiling. "I was able to…how shall I say this? I was able to—dispose of them."

                "No!" Hermione shrieked.

                "Yes," Malfoy whispered, his eyes glinting cruelly. "I have disposed of them as proper. So now, Granger, we have no need to worry…it's just you, me, and Harry here…I'm sure you'd like to join in the fun, then, won't you? Don't you want to know how Potter felt when I cursed him?"

                He grinned and raised his wand—Hermione shuddered—and a thought entered her mind, only one thought, beyond fear—_Get away from Malfoy._

                "_Crucio!"_ Malfoy cried, pointing his wand at her.

                She rolled quickly off of the table before the spell hit her; she heard the table crack as the spell hit it instead.

                "Very nice, Hermione," Malfoy said, and the room was filled with his laughter. "You have nice reflexive powers, Hermione…maybe I shouldn't curse you, then…I shall just make you watch as I hurt your friend Harry instead…"

                "No!" Hermione screamed.

                Malfoy paid no attention, simply smiled and reached down to grab Hermione by the shirt. He slung her up off of the floor—she was screaming harder than ever now—and threw her back onto the table.

                "Ungh!"

                Hermione felt her head hit something hard as she slid back onto the table. She twisted around—Harry had awoken. Her head had whacked his as she landed forcefully on the table. He was breathing quite hard, his eyes wide.

                "Ah," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowing. "Harry—I'm so glad to see you are awake."   

                Harry stared at Malfoy with pure hatred in his eyes. "Don't you even hurt her," he snarled at Malfoy. "Don't you hurt her…"

                "Brave little wizard, aren't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. He looked slightly demonic now, a fierce glint shining in his eyes. "So protective of your foolish friends…yes…" He smirked at Harry. "You don't know how much suffering you've put into my life, do you, Potter? Do you know how much I suffered at your hands, since you defeated my Lord, Voldemort? Do you, Potter? _Do you?"_

Harry didn't answer.

                "Look at what you've done to me," Malfoy whispered. "My master gone…my wife and son abandoned me…the Malfoy name in disgrace…" He raised his wand. "Ministry wizards looking everywhere for me… It's not a very pleasant situation…." He turned back to look at Harry.

                "You know what I'd like to do right now, Potter?" he asked. "I'd like to kill you."

                "No…no…" Hermione whimpered. "Harry…"

                "Yes," Malfoy breathed. "I'd like to kill you…just like you destroyed my master…but killing with the _Avada Kedavra_ curse seems a bit too easy, doesn't it? Maybe I should bring in a dementor…or maybe…should I curse you again?"

                Harry still wouldn't answer him. Dully, as though feeling someone else's pain, he felt the pain the previous Cruciatus Curses had left all over his body, as well as the old, nearly-forgotten pain in his arm…the arm he had cut on the broken window as he reached through it only this morning…but that seemed like that had been a long time ago…but the blood still flowed down his torn skin…he could feel a trickle of blood running down his forearm…he forced himself back to reality, to what was happening…Malfoy was still talking…

                "Does that seem like a good enough punishment to you, Harry?" he was saying. "I think so, yes…"

                Laughing, he raised his wand, and cried, _"Crucio!"_

                Once again Harry was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. He shuddered and jerked on the table again, fighting to control himself, but he could feel the substance of whatever had been holding him together in all the time before already dissolving away. He gasped, barely holding in the screams as the sensation of being pierced all over with knives hit him again. For a moment his eyes involuntarily squeezed themselves shut…then they opened again, and he saw Hermione's face, pale with horror, and the tears coursing down from her eyes…he couldn't see anything else…there was a kind of mist in front of his eyes, blocking him from seeing anything more…he could feel himself breaking down…the pain was sinking into him, becoming a part of him…he couldn't see…

                The pain stopped again, and Harry was left to gasp there on the table, shaking.

                "Maybe I shouldn't kill you with magic," Malfoy said in a thoughtful sort of voice. "Yes…I should use_ this_…"  

                He stooped down under the table for a moment—Harry lay there, frozen with fear—and reappeared, the shining dagger he had previously held to Hermione's throat now clutched in his hand.

                "This should be a lot more painful, yes?" he said, turning it so that the dim candlelight fell on the jagged blade. "Especially if I do it slowly…"

                "No," Harry moaned, "Please…don't…"

                But Malfoy had grabbed Harry by the neck. His laughter had grown merciless, insane…Harry choked, the fingers tightening on his throat…Hermione was screaming again…Malfoy was raising the dagger, his face triumphant…

                Harry saw the blade coming closer to his neck. He was screaming too, struggling vainly, as the knife's blade pressed coldly into his neck…

                There was suddenly a great shout, it seemed, from far away.

                "STUPEFY!"

                There was a blaze of red light. Harry screamed and closed his eyes, terrified—Hermione shrieked too, louder than she ever had—there was a searing pain on Harry's face—from what, he didn't know—then there was a loud thud as something fell to the floor next to Harry—

                He opened his eyes, terrified—and found that the spot where Lucius Malfoy had been was empty of him—the dagger clattered to the floor too—and looking past the space where Malfoy had been, Harry found himself looking at the doorway—and standing there, his face pale, his hair damp with sweat, was _Ron._ His eyes were wide, his mouth still open—and he had a wand clutched tightly in his outstretched hand.

                Hardly daring to believe it, Harry twisted his head down so he could see the floor.

                Lucius Malfoy lay there, spread-eagled and unconscious. He had been hit by Ron's Stunning Spell. The searing pain that had lanced down Harry's face had come from the blade of the dagger as it slipped from Malfoy's hand…the point of it had sliced Harry down the cheek.

                "Harry!" Ron croaked, running over to the table where Harry lay. He muttered something under his breath, pointing his wand at Hermione's ropes first—the ropes sprang apart, and he helped Hermione sit up. He muttered the same spell towards Harry's wrists too, and Harry's hands sprang apart as the ropes fell away. Ron severed the ropes from both Harry and Hermione's ankles.

                "Ron…" Hermione could only sob, and she threw her arms around him—tears were flowing even more strongly down her cheeks again.

                "I don't believe it," Harry whispered. "I can't…" Shakily, he leaped down from the table to the floor, and retrieved his wand from the floor, where it had fallen. He could feel himself trembling. He couldn't believe how close he had come to death…if Ron hadn't…

                "Harry…" Ron said, freeing himself from Hermione's grasp. "He tied me up, Harry…I only just got away…"

                Harry looked around for Draco. As his eyes focused on Ron, he suddenly knew…he knew all now. He couldn't bring himself to ask Ron…

                "Ron?" Hermione said. "Where's Draco?"

                Ron bit his lip, and shaking his head, looked away. "He's dead," he whispered. "His father killed him, Hermione…his own father…"

                "Where—where is he?" Harry whispered.

                "Out there," Ron murmured. "Please, Harry, let's just get out of here…I can't…let the Ministry deal with him…"

                Harry looked down at Mr. Malfoy's limp body for another moment. Finally, he bent back down, picking up his glasses from under the table. Taking a deep breath he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

                "Let's get out of here."

                As Hermione was the most shaken of the small group, Harry and Ron half carried, half dragged her out of the secret passageway. They walked down all the corridors and hallways of the Malfoy manor. As they passed the room where Draco had been killed, Ron began shaking terribly, and turned his head away from the room so that he wouldn't have to see Draco's body, still lying on the floor. 

                As Ron, Harry, and Hermione neared the entrance to the manor, the voices of many people reached their ears. Ginny had evidently found a way to bring some Ministry wizards to come and help.

                Just as Harry reached out to grasp the door-handle, the heavy wooden door swung open. Standing there, looking astonished at the condition that the three friends were in, was a whole crowd of wizards—most of them with their wands ready, held high in front of them.

                _"Harry!"_

Mrs. Weasley had pushed her way through the Ministry wizards and had run up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

                "Ginny told us that you all had left—what ever possessed you— your father even flew in here—honestly—we've been so worried— "

                "All right!" said one of the Ministry wizards. "Let's go check it out— " He turned to Harry. "Was there anyone else in there?"  
                "Draco and Lucius Malfoy," Harry said quietly. 

                "Where are they?" the Ministry wizard demanded. 

                "I—I knocked Lucius Malfoy out with a Stunning Spell— " Ron stammered.

                "Well done, then," the wizard said. "We've been looking for him for months now—he's wanted as a Death Eater— "

                "But—but—" Ron said, and Harry understood.

                "Draco Malfoy's dead," Harry said softly.

                Nearly all of the Ministry wizards turned to look at him.

                "DEAD?" gasped Mrs. Weasley. "How? You didn't— "

                "His father killed him," Hermione said—Ron didn't look like he could answer. "His body is still in there—in—in one of the rooms…"

                All of Mrs. Weasley's anger at Ron and Harry for running off seemed to melt away.

                "Oh, boys," she whispered. Before Harry, Ron, or Hermione could do anything else, she pulled them into a tight hug.

                A few of the Ministry officials bustled over to them while another group ran into the manor to investigate. The officials that had made their way over to Ron, Harry, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley opened their mouths—Harry dreaded what he thought they would say—but then Mrs. Weasley held up a hand. 

                "Don't question them!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Not until they're ready— "

                Harry raised his head and saw Ginny running toward them; her robes were stained and ripped, and in her hand she still held Harry's Firebolt. She was closely followed by Mr. Weasley.

                "Ron!" Ginny shrieked, and threw herself at her brother. Mr. Weasley looked, alarmed, at Harry and Hermione.

                "What happened?" he asked sharply. "What's happened here?"

                Harry told him everything he could about what had happened, and Mr. Weasley cursed and ran off, arguing with the other Ministry officials.

                They were there for quite a long time. Harry, however, barely noticed the chaos and confusion…noticed only as Ginny burst into tears, hugging Ron wildly…noticed the pain still etched in Ron's eyes…noticed the tears running down Hermione's face as she looked back at the manor…noticed the blood drying on his arm and the blood slithering down his face…

                Slowly, he reached down under his robes and pulled out the Eye of Truth. For a minute he stared at it, the lens glinting in the dim light. The "eye" in the lens wasn't bright and friendly anymore…it did not wink at him…it was rather dull, clouded…

                Looking back up at the manor, he clutched the Eye in his hand. Taking a deep breath he yanked at the tiny lens.

                _It's done what it's needed to do._

There was a soft snap, and Harry felt the chain around his neck break cleanly.

                "Harry…?" 

                He turned. Hermione was wrapped up in a cloak, put around her shoulders by Mrs. Weasley. She held out her hand to Harry, and looking beyond her, he saw that the Ministry had conjured up a carriage to take them back to Diagon Alley.

                "Let's go back…"

                Harry nodded. "I'm coming."

                He allowed himself to be steered into the carriage along with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. "Your father will join us later," Harry heard her whisper to Ginny. "For now, let's just go back to the Leaky Cauldron."

                Slowly, Harry stretched his arm out of the carriage window. He opened his fingers, letting the chain slip out of his hand.

                The Eye of Truth fell gently to the grass. It had fulfilled its purpose. Harry didn't need it any more.

                The carriage jerked and began to move in the direction of Diagon Alley. Harry watched, smiling sadly to himself, as the glint of the Eye slowly faded and disappeared as they left the manor behind.


	14. Ginny's Departure

Chapter Fourteen

Ginny's Departure 

Well, I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far. This is by far my favorite out of all the stories that I have written (or tried to write…heh heh…) This is the final chapter, so for all those who were expecting more…well, I'm sorry, but you know…writer's block. Hope you had fun reading this and enjoy the rest of the story! And please review! 

                It would be a lie to say that life returned to normal after their ordeal at the Malfoy manor. Much to Harry's surprise, though, after the initial questioning, newspaper stories, and other things began to die down, life began to mend itself again.

                Hermione, though she had been deeply shaken the first few days after they had left the manor, was almost as happy as she had been before. All she asked, she said, was that she wouldn't have to recount the ordeal ever again until she was ready.

                Harry had had his face healed up and felt perfectly normal again. He learned to be extra-cautious now, and he never left his wand more than an arm's length away from him. The window in Harry's room had been fixed—Harry had offered to pay for it, which Tom the innkeeper accepted gratefully—and was now mercifully unstuck. He could open it without difficulty now.

                Ron, however, had been most deeply affected. Seeing Draco Malfoy killed before his eyes changed something in him. For the first few days after, he was unusually pale, and kept to his room most of the time. Whenever Harry, Hermione, and Ginny tried to speculate on what the Ministry had done with Lucius Malfoy, he always left the room. However, Ron seemed to be slowly returning back to normal and color had begun to show in his face again. He was still not his usual self, but Harry was determined to change all that. Ron needed cheering up, he knew, and he wasn't the only one—Ginny was almost as distraught as he was, but for a totally different reason: September the First was only two days away, and as much as she loved Hogwarts, she most certainly didn't want to leave Ron, Hermione, and Harry. At lest, she didn't want to leave them after all that they had been through together. 

                Harry decided that he would fool around in Diagon Alley with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione for the day—just acting like the young wizards they were, and to let themselves stop worrying about the future, or remembering yesterday—to just let themselves enjoy the days at hand.

                He barged into Ron's room early that morning, fully dressed and fully awake. Ron was still asleep, an old _Chudley Cannons_ book spread out on the floor beside him.

                 "Wake up," he said loudly. He prodded Ron in the leg with his sneaker.

                "Harry?" Ron muttered thickly, raising his head off the pillow a bit and squinting at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you doing—it's so early— "

                "I told you, I'm taking you all out in Diagon Alley for the day," Harry said. He stooped down on the floor and, picking up the book, placed it on Ron's bedside table and patted its top. "And it's _not_ early, it's a quarter to nine in the morning. Come on, nearly all of the shops are already open— "

                "Wake me up later," Ron grunted, turning over; Harry punched Ron (not too hard) in the back.

                "You wake up now," he said firmly. "Come on, get up already, it's bright and sunny out, we're wasting time! " He thumped Ron on the back again. Ron only recoiled. "Come _on_, Ron! I'm going to spoil you all rotten today! It's the money-spending opportunity of a lifetime!"

                "I can spend money any day!" Ron mumbled, putting his pillow over his head.

                "No you can't," Harry reminded him.

                "So what? It's not like you _planned _this!" Ron said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

                "For your information, _Ronald Weasley_, I _did_ plan this. I have blueprints. I have a to-do list. I compiled my money in three separate pockets. Galleons go in the left pocket, Sickles go in the right, and Knuts go in my shirt pocket--"

                Ron threw his pillow at Harry.

                Harry kicked the bed in a last effort to rouse Ron.

                "All _right!" _Ron said crossly. "Just get out of my room while I change, will you?"

                "Right," Harry said, and rushed back out of Ron's room.

                He stopped at the top of the stairs to wave at Ginny, who was waiting far below for Harry to wake up Ron and fetch Hermione. As he waved at her she grinned and waved back.

                "Ron's changing his clothes!" he yelled down at her. "I'm just going to get Hermione—be down in a minute— "

                "All right," she said back up at him. "Hurry up!"

                Harry grinned back and left the stairs to go and get Hermione.

                He bounced into Hermione's room, successfully startling Hermione, who jumped to her feet and spilled pieces of parchment over the floor. 

                _"Harry!"_ she said in a half-amused, half-exasperated voice.

                "Are you done getting yourself ready?" he asked her.

                "Yes," she said. "But— "

                "See you downstairs, then!" Harry said over his shoulder, and he leaped back out of her room.

                As he fairly danced down the stairs he found Ron sitting at a table with Mrs. Weasley, still looking a bit tired and disgruntled. Mrs. Weasley, however, looked positively delighted. 

                "It's wonderful that you're taking all this effort to cheer Ron and Ginny up, Harry dear," she said as she kissed him on the cheek.

                "It's no problem," he said. "Well, see you, I'd better get going— " He looked at the staircase and saw Hermione, looking not-too-pleased, coming down the stairs.  "Bye, Mrs. Weasley!" he called, and he headed over to the doorway, where Ginny ran up to him.

                Harry enlisted the help of a thoroughly excited Ginny to drag a slightly unenthusiastic Hermione and a yawning Ron out of the Leaky Cauldron and up the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. Ron seemed to wake up a bit more when Harry dragged him into Quality Quidditch Supplies and said, "Go ahead. I'll buy whatever you want."

                Harry, however, drew the line when Ron pointed enthusiastically to a Firebolt. He bought Ron several Galleons' worth of Chudley Cannon products instead, and Ron left Quality Quidditch Supplies laden down with several bulging shopping-bags, stammering his thanks to Harry.

                "It's no problem," Harry told him stoutly. "You deserve it—you really saved our lives back in the manor. All right, Hermione, your turn…" For Hermione had excitedly pointed out Flourish and Blotts.

                Harry bought Hermione several books there, and he also bought Ginny a few things to cheer her up while she was away at Hogwarts—a bottle of color-changing ink, and a quill that had had a charm placed on it so that it could never accidentally blot the page. 

                Next he pulled them all into Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop and bought several trick sweets for Ron ("Maybe I could give Fred and George a taste of their own medicine," Ron said happily as he looked closely at a packet of Hiccup Sweets Harry had waved under his nose) and a whole lot of other tricks and jokes—including some of their old favorites: Dungbombs, Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and a few Nose-Biting-Teacups—until finally Hermione dragged them all out to go look at the other shops.

                In no time at all they had gone over nearly half of Diagon Alley. Ron started complaining about walking so long, so Harry suggested that they all take a break and have a quick bit of ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor. 

                After Ron had finished eating his ice cream they set off again. Harry pulled them all into a tiny junk shop, which was far more interesting inside than it looked to people on the outside. Ginny was enchanted by the old, splotched books and magical instruments whirring around the shop, though she firmly refused to buy anything. 

                Harry then led Ron over to the shop where he had bought his Eye of Truth. The manager Harry had met wasn't there that day—instead, there was an assistant, who let Ron see for himself what the Eye of Truth could do. Ron began to say that he felt hungry again (it was nearly lunchtime) and Harry shooed them out of the shop and went to a large candy-shop. The sweets there brought back memories of visiting Honeydukes back in Hogsmeade Village. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were looking in wonder all around them at the shelves stocked heavily with sweets, and Harry relented and bought them all, according to Ron, "enough sweets to last us seven years." Hermione then proceeded in dragging Ron all the way back to Ollivander's, where she bought a new wand (rosewood, twelve-and-a-quarter inches, flexible, containing the heartstring of a dragon). Harry went with Ginny to a magical-instrument shop where he bought a new set of Exploding Snap cards for her and also a very old, very worn book (_Hairy Snout, Human Heart_—"an account of one wizard's battle with being a werewolf" the back cover proclaimed) before they headed back outside, where Hermione and Ron were waiting for them. 

                Talking, laughing, and snatching Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs from the bags of sweets Harry had bought, they finally headed back to the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch. For the rest of the sleepy afternoon, they sat alone in the near-empty parlor, playing Exploding Snap, wizard chess and chewing Drooble's Best-Blowing Gum.

                Harry laughed and talked as much as the rest of friends. As the Exploding Snap card-castle he was building blew up in his face for the third time (much to the amusement of Ron, who nearly fell out of his chair laughing as Harry leaped away from the smoldering pile of cards), he knew one thing, and one thing only…as he watched the looks on Ginny and Hermione's faces as they defeated Ron's bishop in wizard chess…that nothing, nothing in the whole wide world, could make him happier than he was at the moment. 

                This was what being a wizard is like, thought Harry as Ron's knight successfully knocked a pawn out of the board. There's nothing like this. Nothing.

                Harry agreed, along with Hermione, to come with Mrs. Weasley to drop Ginny off at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Mr. Weasley, coming back from the investigation of the Malfoy Manor, came along too. He seemed perfectly happy, though just a bit tired.

                "At least Malfoy's talking," he said conspiratorially to Harry. "We've gotten a lot of answers out of him, a lot more than I thought we would…however…"

                He broke off, looking curiously at a teenager who had just placed the earphones of a handheld radio on his ears and switched the radio on. 

                "Is that a _radio_, Harry?" he asked excitedly. "How absolutely _fascinating!_ How _do_ they work?"

                Harry laughed to himself and began explaining how a tape player worked to Mr. Weasley, who listened raptly to every word. He only stopped listening and nodding enthusiastically when Mrs. Weasley said rather irritably, "Ginny's about to leave now, Arthur…don't you want to say goodbye to her?"

                "Oh, yes, of course!" Mr. Weasley said, rather sheepishly, and went over to kiss Ginny good-bye. 

                "Have fun, Ginny!" Hermione said happily as she hugged Ginny. "Send us an owl all about the first day of your last year, won't you?"

                "I will," Ginny said, looking embarrassed, but seeming rather pleased all the same. 

                "See you in a year," Ron said, hugging his sister too. "Here—take some of these along with you, you can eat them on the train—" He pushed a small parcel full of sweets into Ginny's hands. 

                Ginny blushed a deep shade of scarlet when Harry bid her good-bye.

                "Take care of yourself, won't you?" he said, grinning at her. Ginny only nodded, and when he hugged her, she began to stutter incoherently. 

                "Good-bye, Ginny dear," Mrs. Weasley said, and kissed Ginny twice on each cheek. "Send me an owl when you get there."

                "I will," Ginny said, still blushing furiously.

                "And say hello to Hagrid for us," Harry said; Ginny nodded fervently.

                "Goodness, the train!" Mrs. Weasley said frantically as the whistle blew loudly. "All right, Ginny—you have all your things then? All right—go on—have fun— "

                "Bye!" Ginny said. "See you!" 

                She climbed onto the train, and after a few seconds, stuck her head out of the window to kiss her mother good-bye. 

                "See you, Ron—Hermione—Harry!" she said, waving frantically. "Bye!"

                The train began to move; Ron, Harry, and Hermione waved furiously at Ginny until the train had moved far enough so that she had to pull her head back inside the window; then the train began zooming off, becoming nothing but a red speck in the middle of the platform's railway tunnel. 

                "All right, Harry?" he heard Hermione say at his shoulder; he turned around and grinned.

                "Come on," he said. "Back to the inn."

                Together with Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley, he Apparated back to the Leaky Cauldron. As he stood there, blinking at the dusty sunlight piercing the window-blinds in the parlor, and looking around at Ron and Hermione, his two best friends in the world, he again felt that indescribable happiness. 

                "D'you sometimes get the feeling," he said to Ron and Hermione, "That you're one of the world's lucky ones?"

                Hermione smiled. "All the time."

                "We probably are the luckiest ones right now," Ron said, shaking his head. "Imagine all those times we could've died, and look…we're all still here…"

                "It seems like a long time ago," Harry said. "Since we were at Hogwarts."

                "It does," Hermione agreed.

                "You know what?" Harry said, beginning to go up the stairs, but looking over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, "I reckon life will never be normal for us. Ever. Something's going to happen to us again sooner or later."

                "Don't remind me," Ron groaned. 

                "That's not going to stop us, though, is it?" Harry continued. He looked back up at the stairs, and smiled.

                "Hey, Ron? Hermione?"

                "What?" they asked in unison.

                "Let's grow old together," Harry said.

                "Yeah." Ron grinned too. "That'll be a challenge."

                Harry's face split into a wide grin. "I'll say."

                And, bounding up the stairs, his feet barely making a noise as they fell lightly to the carpeted steps, Harry knew, beyond all doubt…Ron was right. He _was_ one of the luckiest ones in the world. It was all there…he had good friends, had once had parents that had loved him, and a godfather who still cared…not to mention being a fully-fledged wizard…

                He ran his fingers over the old scar on his forehead, and his grin widened. 

                Where it all started…and where it all ended.

                _You're a wizard, Harry…_Hagrid's voice seemed to echo in his mind.

                _You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head…_so did the Sorting Hat's first words to him.

                "It doesn't matter," Harry said. "I've got friends, and I'm alive…I don't need anything else."

                Smiling softly to himself, he climbed up the last stair, toward the future…towards _his_ future.

                I _am _one of the lucky ones, Harry thought. I really think I am. 

**THE END**


End file.
